Lady Nottingham's Secret
by Lady to the Sheriff
Summary: Inspired by the Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood POT.The story is AU,most characters are my own,but you'll know many.The Sheriff falls for a Lady. All is perfection. But a sudden change in events threaten his world. What secret does she harbour?
1. Chapter 1

It was a rather bleak afternoon that autumn Sunday when he first saw her. Not usually moved by beauty, he caught sight of her while he was gathered with the Barons. They were in the reception hall outside of the cathedral following Sunday worship. She was in the distance, yet close enough to discern her luminous skin, and the light reflecting from her hair. The silky tresses were sable in color, with golden and crimson flickers of light. She had no adornment and she didn't need it. There was something about the way she could communicate from a distance with her eyes. The way she dropped her eyelids, then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. They spoke, those eyes, the color of moors on a misty spring day. He took notice. He has never taken note of a woman before. A hunger formed burning like torches in those dark hazel eyes.

Guy noticed this too. Anyone who knew him found themselves casting their glances at him. None of them had seen what they were witnessing together. He ignored Guy, as he took in the sight of her, until he was ready to break the spell.

"The lady in the distance, cousin. The one who wears a black and burgundy gown. Who is she?"

"I'm not sure. She is new in the village. I've seen her. She lives on the outside of the village not far from the castle walls in a smaller estate. That's all I know."

"Very well. I can do the rest." He replied returning his gaze.

Just then he was distracted by a remark from Baron Amos from the North. The next he looked for her she was gone. He started to walk to find her.

She moved to another room off the marbled torch lit reception hall. She was almost overcome when she glanced to the left and saw a dark prince in the distance returning her gaze. He was tall and lean, and appeared dark and mysterious. Framing his face was jet black hair tousled in loose waves that fell to his collar, and a neat beard. He fixed his gaze on her with dark piercing eyes. He was confident, strong, and fiercely attractive. One glance and she felt her knees weaken, her mouth go dry, and her heart quicken. She'd never seen him before. She could tell by his dress and the way he carried himself he was not a person of want. That wasn't what interested her. She asked her lady Rebeccah.

"Who is the man in black Rebeccah?"

"Why my lady? You do not know? That is the Sheriff of Nottingham!"

"No….I. Hmm…."

Rebeccah noticed her blush, avert her eyes. She knew it was no use. Milady was smitten.

"He is not married, or betrothed Milady."

"It's of no use to me." She replied.

"Oh. Really?"

"I'd never seen him. Just curious, Rebeccah. Excuse me." And it was then she caught him glancing her way. She became flustered. When he was interrupted she quickly found a path to exit the hall, then through the doors leading outside to the courtyard.

Out in the courtyard, she found herself moving towards the roses at the garden wall. The mists that day enhanced their scent, and touched her cheeks. She reached out and grasped a white rose. She pulled it toward her to inhale the intoxicating scent, unaware of the man approaching from back of her.

"My lady?"

"Oh." She turned around to face him. Standing this close to her, he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Dressed in black and gold. His scent was a combination of musk and new English leather.

"I'm sorry I startled you my lady."

"It's alright." She maintained his gaze.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm George, the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"How do you do sir? I'm Rhiannon of the North." He took her hand and kissed it.

"Lady Rhiannon. A beautiful name, for such a beautiful lady."

"Yes." She had to look away. He couldn't see her cheeks flush.

They stood for awhile making conversation. When she remarked on the beauty of the roses he said "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? There is still much to see that I seldom have a chance to admire in such captivating company."

"I'd like that my Lord." She said as she took his arm.

"So you live here?" she asked as she gestured toward the castle.

"Yes, with a few servants. And you milady?"

"I live not far from here my Lord. In a smaller castle. Alone, with a lady in waiting."

" No family, milady?"

"No. What was left of them died in the crusades." She replied.

"I'm sorry milady."

"That's just the way things must be my Lord."

"You seem well adjusted despite everything. You remain so, untouched. Refreshingly…." His voice trailed off to a whisper. Then he spoke in a whisper almost to himself "Such a simple word to describe it. I cannot put it into words."

He stopped to look at her, take in her beauty. His eyes glistened in a moment of desire. He felt weak. Weak and vulnerable for the first time. And captivated. In a way, trapped by her beauty, and his desire.

"My Lord?" she returned his gaze, pleading for him to let go. Reveal what she thought he may be thinking.

"Milady…" he advanced toward her.

"Yes?" she let it trail off. Not wanting to talk anymore. He took his cue, softly caressing her face, and leaned in closer. He kissed her then. She caught her breath. She suddenly needed him. It didn't seem to last. Just then the rain began. They paused and gazed upon each other's eyes. She was almost giggling, and the Sheriff noticed, completely unfazed by the rain. He found her ability to savour the moment refreshing. He smiled back, and the rain fell harder. He grabbed her by the hand and lead her to a sheltered covered passageway that divided two sections of the castle. She would be better protected there.

"Afraid of a little rain Sheriff" she playfully asked.

He chuckled. "I've weathered most of the elements in battle my Lady. I didn't bring you here for my sake."

"You're confusing me with other maids my Lord. We are not all cut from the same cloth."

"Yes. I see that now."

She looked up at him, and again almost lost her breath. He was tall in stature. Lean, yet muscular. His silky tousled dark hair fell to his collar in loose waves that framed an exquisite face. His eyes were hazel but dark enough to still capture a mystery about him. His slightly large nose didn't detract from his looks. Perhaps because it was offset by perfectly shaped full lips that upturned into a smirk, framed by a neat beard that added to his dark mysterious quality. She lowered her gaze and smiled to herself. She was amazed this man was standing before her, protecting her, wanting to be near her.

He put his gloved hand under her chin and tilted it up toward him. "My Lady." He said softly "Are you well?"

"Yes." She whispered. For she was sure her knees would buckle. "Fine thank you, my Lord."

"You're trembling, Lady Rhiannon." He remarked in a concerned manner.

"Yes…I….my Lord….maybe it's the chill in the air?" she lied.

With that he removed his heavy black brocade cloak and placed it around her shoulders. "Come my Lady Rhiannon. I must bring you in from the cold. And I have just the thing." He said with a smile. She lifted her eyes to meet his. Soft, glistening pools of aqua. Glazed with desire. He sensed it from her, and felt the same toward her.

He lead her down an alleyway between two wings of Nottingham Castle. They arrived at an entranceway on the north side. Once inside the familiar dark torch lit halls, he lead her upstairs on a circular staircase and through a heavy oak door. Inside was a roaring fire, soft velvet couches, and a table that contained the following: goblets, a decanter, and a burning candle on an ornate cast iron holder.

"It's welcoming my Lord." She remarked as she cast her gaze around the expanse of the room. "Is this where you entertain?"

"No my Lady." He began "We are right outside my private chambers. Right through that door, over there." He said as he pointed to the oak doors at the back of the room, across from the fireplace where the furniture was assembled. "Nobody has ever entered this room."

"Oh." She cried out softly. "I really mustn't be here my Lord."

"It's quite alright my Lady. Nobody knows you're here. You're my guest and it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of it."  
"Well, I suppose you're right my Lord." She agreed.

He lead her toward the overstuffed couch. "Come rest my Lady. I have just the thing. "Brandy?"

"Yes, that might help….uh, this chill my Lord." She lied again. She watched him. The way he moved seduced her. So methodical and fluid it was like a dance.

"This is what you need my Lady." He said as he handed her the goblet.

"Indeed." She replied back as she looked up at him touching his fingers lightly as she found the cool metal. He licked his lips and loosened his collar.

"Drink my Lady." He said. "It is sure to warm you, and rid you of that chill that makes you tremble so."

"Yes." She agreed weakly. Though, it was not the chill in the air that caused her to tremble.

She sipped the fiery liquid letting it slide down her throat, slowly warming her. She began to relax. "Have you always lived in the castle my Lord?" she asked

"Yes, since I was a small boy." He replied. "I don't mind having to leave it if necessary on occasion. It's so large and empty."

"My home is not as vast as yours, but I think I understand." She agreed wistfully.

"I've not seen you before Lady Rhiannon. How long have you lived in the village?"

"Not long my Lord. Six months now. I like it. It reminds me a little of home, but it's just enough of a change. I left because there was nothing keeping me there." She said sipping slowly on the brandy. " I just started wandering, south, and then I ended up here. Not really sure why, but this is where my journey brought me to."

He drew his knee up and looked her up and down. "All eventually gets revealed in time my Lady Rhiannon." She did that thing again with her eyes. It sent chills down his spine. She was so seductive, but he knew she was completely unaware.

"Yes, perhaps."

"Has it always been hard on you." He asked

"Only the last six years, yes." She began. "My mother died giving me life. My father gave into the strain of a broken heart and died when I was eight. I was close to my brothers. Robert was eight years older than me and he took over the role of head of household when father died. Then there was Edward. He was two years younger than Robert. Much less serious, light hearted, the family jester." She paused and sighed. The Sheriff smiled. She was so animated relaying her story. Then, something in her changed, a shadow leaped across her face. "But a part of him died when father died." She interrupted his thoughts "Of course they had been through our mother's death. It was the one event that separated us. I couldn't share it with them. After some time, Edward became himself again and things were light and merry at home. We never wanted to be apart. We agreed our future spouses must agree to be neighbours." She drew the Sheriff's cloak closer about her shoulders. "Then the crusades lead them to follow King Richard. Six years ago. Six months after that I received word that Edward died in battle. I got used to managing our home alone. But I kept going because of Robert. A year ago I received word Robert was coming home. When he was en route, storm arose. His ship capsized."

"Oh my Lady." The Sheriff said as his face softened.

"I had five wonderful years with Robert and Eddie. It hasn't always been this way. But the last six years have been torture." A beat. "Until now." She said lifting her eyes to meet his. He smiled. She flushed. Then she cleared her throat. " I really must go my Lord. It was kind of you to endure my ramblings." She glided to the door. It was too late. He was right behind her. His hands on her shoulders, that unmistakable scent again. His breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, "My Lady. Don't go. For I knew when I first saw you that our paths were meant to cross."

She stiffened. Her eyes wide. Her mouth agape. She felt warm. This couldn't be real. This man. This dark prince was making love to her. He was as enthralled with her as she was with him. There were few moments of joy thus far. Could this really be happening?

He spun her around to face him. He tilted her chin upward to meed his gaze. He fixed his eyes on hers as he spoke "You know you don't want to leave here." He whispered in a velvet baritone like melted chocolate. "You looked at me once before. In the cathedral foyer following mass. No maid has ever looked at me, the way you looked at me then. You set my soul on fire."


	2. Chapter 2

She cried out but then soon relaxed as he pulled her in closer to him, and settled his mouth on hers

She cried out but then soon relaxed as he pulled her in closer to him, and settled his mouth on hers. He pryed her lips open and found her tongue. Moments later he seized an opportunity when he grasped the ribbons on her chemise, loosened them, and touched her breast. She pressed her body in closer to his hand. Her skin was cool and damp from just being in the rain, and silky soft. He was aching with need. He picked her up and carried her through the doors leading into his private chambers.

After softly settling her on the bed he went back to lock the door. She settled herself on the red satin linens and down feather pillows raising her arms above her head. The Sheriff turned to face her and slowly came toward her. He straddled her and looked down upon her.

"My lady Rhiannon… You're the most desirable lady I've ever met. However we don't need to pursue this."

She raised herself slowly up to meet him and placed her fingers on his lips.

"Shhh. I'm here by choice. You're right. The look I cast upon you was intentional. I chose you. There's no place else I'd rather be than when I am at this moment." And with that she opened her gown in a swift fluid motion, sliding it slowly past her shoulders, and revealed a perfectly curved, firm, naked body. He caught his breath. She reached up and teased his tunic open, running her fingers feather light along his chest and abdomen. Teasing them down stroking him. He was so hard. He leaned in and kissed her hungrily. She touched his face and ran her hand through his still damp silky waves. In moments their bodies were entwined, exploring each others in a hunger to please and to taste in the sweet forbidden temptation of unrestrained sex.

"You're so beautiful" he whispered in her ear, the heat of his breath fueling her.

"You're wearing too many clothes…." was her response as she reached for his trousers. He gave a soft moan as she slid them down and took him in her hand. Stroking him, softly at first, then with a gradual increase in pressure. She started breathing hard as she felt his response.

"Sheriff" she sighed.

He climbed on top of her and entered her.

They spent the rest evening and all through the night like this. He touched her the way no man ever had, but she didn't care. It felt so right, so true. She knew she would never regret this. It was like a dream realized. From the moment she first caught sight of her dark prince, a dream come true.

The Sheriff discovered he finally met the lady of his dreams. He knew that there could never exist another woman such as she. She was so responsive, so open. He ran his fingers through her silky tresses as he breathed into her by the glow of the fire. He played with the strands then ran his fingers lightly down her back, into the curve of her spine. She moaned a response. He knew then, that no other lady would ever do, but Lady Rhiannon.

Outside the rain fell hard though the night. In a moonless sky the scent of newly energized earth charged the atmosphere with promise. New beginnings. A metaphor for the story unfolding in the glow of the master's private chambers in Nottingham Castle. By the glow of the fire, the heat of his breath, and in the joy of the moment; she listened to the soft trickle of rain outside the window as she focused her attention on her man. She knew that no man would ever afford her this security the way he did. Her dark prince. She was safe, protected. And outside in the cold of the dead bare autumn, the rain washed her pain away…..

…..In the silence of the menacing dark…outside the barred windows, the rain fell. Inking her memories in dreams. She opened her eyes. They glistened. Not moistened by the desire of that night with her Sheriff. This time they were tainted in regret, and longing. By this time, there was no more fear. Only resignation. She didn't care if she lived or died. She only cared that she would never see her lover again.

She didn't know her captor. She'd never seen his face. He always kept it hidden in a hood. It was clear he had no intention of releasing her. It was as if he somehow regarded her as a spouse. She tried to reason with him in the beginning. When she awoke with a headache in a dingy and cold dark room. Bereft of furnishings save a small bed, and a wash stand it was chill. Her breath was visible as she pleaded in a futile attempt for her release at once. It was pointless. She learned there was no such thing as a conversation of reason, or any kind of negotiation with him. She didn't know his name. Only the sinister tone of his voice. Days turned into nights, and weeks passed. Eventually she found it best to remain silent, and endure his torture until he would bore of her. Until the next time the heavy creaking doors announced his next loathsome intrusion.

She groaned. She felt dizzy, even just lying there. Perhaps from the heavy burden she endured, the lack of food, lack of sleep; she often felt faint. Her belly had thickened over time despite that. She rolled on her side and stared at the rain falling through the slats between the bars closing her eyes. She tried very hard to to imagine that amazing night. Her own piece of heaven that not even her captor could take from her. She replayed it in dreams in the dead of night. The only time she would allow her mind to wander in recall. Otherwise she had to be on guard. She smiled, despite the cold bed and the chill of the air. The last night when she saw her lover. Just like all brief happy moments, alas, it couldn't be. Holding onto it notwithstanding, kept her alive. Fueling her desire to get stronger and meet the challenge of an escape so that maybe she could possibly find her dark prince. Even though she held onto that thought for hope, she knew that it wouldn't turn out the way she dreamed it would be.


	3. Chapter 3

Some distance away to the south, a distance that unknown to them would take a fortnight to travel; the rain fell outside the d

Some distance away to the south, a distance that unknown to them would take a fortnight to travel; the rain fell outside the dim glow in the den outside the Sheriff's private chambers. He sat awake, sipping brandy virtually in the dark. The glowing embers of the receeding fire offered little in the way of light, or warmth, but he was oblivious. He sat on the very couch his lady had been seated some months prior.

He awoke just before dawn that day. He remembered finally giving in to fatigue after hours of exhausting sex. He finally succumbed in a state of bliss. His world came crashing back to reality right before the sun peaks her head awake on the horizon. That was when he knew. He was alone. He found her gown neatly draped over the back of a chair at the foot of his bed. The only thing missing was the white diaphanous gown she wore beneath her gown. He dressed and started off to find her. He knew she had to be near. After searching though several empty rooms, he found his way to the door that lead outside into the garden. Where he had first kissed her. He pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders and ventured out into the pelting rain that fell that fateful night. The one that changed his life in two opposing ways. In the distance he saw a white rose on the ground by the garden wall. He started toward it. Despite the accumulation of water on the ground, he saw it beside the flower. First an unidentifiable white object. As he got near he bent down to get a closer look. It was a cloth of some sort. A large swatch of fabric, embroidered in white silk. It dawned on him, it was torn from her missing gown! He reached down to pick it up. As is to preserve proof she was in danger, under the fabric were splotches of blood.

He froze. His mouth went dry as he suddenly could feel his heart sinking. He knew then with absolute certainty that his lady Rhiannon did not leave willingly. She had no family. Who would look to find her? Nobody knew he had spent nearly the last 24 hrs with her. The hairs stood on the back of his neck. The cold realization came over him like a cold black shadow. Her captor knew this. He must've been watching her! The horror overtook him and he fell to his knees in the rain, oblivious to being soaked through his garments. He held that swatch of white fabric to his forehead. Then he knew. Not only did he love her, he knew he must find her. She was the woman he spent his life dreaming of but thought didn't exist. It was then, in that powerless moment he vowed to go to the ends of the earth to find her.

And now, sipping his brandy, alone in the dark with the company of only the rain and his memory he was ready to uphold that vow. His top investigator completed a preliminary investigation and handed the Sheriff the scrolls of documents only hours earlier. After a thorough sweep of the land, the lady's home, and questioning of her servant Rebeccah, and friends; it was clear that Lady Rhiannon hadn't been seen since the morning before when she left for Sunday Worship. It was obvious, the very last person to see her prior to whatever happened was he himself! He wouldn't allow himself to consider the worst outcome. He had to believe she was being kept alive. He tried to suppress the growing worry as the days passed.

Through another door in the den outside of the Sheriff's private chambers there was another entranceway that led downwards in a clockwise spiral to Mortianna's lair. She rang the bell for her lord Sheriff, knowing she would not disturb his sleep.

Within minutes he stood before her. "You call me in the dead of night Madam?" he asked rather abruptly.

"Yes, because I know you do not sleep."

He raised his eyebrow and fixed his steely gaze demanding an answer.

"I was outside walking because I too could not sleep. I saw the dim glow from your quarters. I've known a long time something vexes thee. Now it has been revealed. I see what causes thee to pace in the darkest corners of night. What shadows thee by day." She let the words hang there before she continued. He was hard pressed hiding his annoyance. She started to speak again, right when he was about to express it.

"I can see her my Lord. I see your Lady." A beat. "She is alive."

His eyes widened. He'd never uttered a word about lady Rhiannon to a soul, except to Guy and to Duke Farnsworth, his lead investigator. He knew Mortianna was genuine.

"Tell me…" he pleaded as he grasped the witch's shoulders. "Where is she? Who has her?"

She broke free and sat at a table nearby. There was a cracked stone cup with wet tea leaves lying in patters along the bottom placed in the center of the table.

"I see a dark room. Stone walls with a small bed." She squinted and picked up the cup. The Sheriff fidgeted seated across from her.

" A lady sits on the bed. A beautiful lady, with sunlight streaming from her hair. She sits alone. She is pale, weakened. She no longer cares to live, but she chooses to – because of you."

"My lady" he softly cried out.

"She is alive, my Lord. Her love is true. But….there is something else. I'm not that certain…." Her words became distant as she focused.

"What is it?" he pleaded.

"She is not well. I do not know what causes it, but she collapses often. Faints. She is weak, yet too unwell to eat. There's something wrong my Lord Sheriff."

"I need to find her. Tell me Mortianna…..Can I get to her in time?"

"It's unclear the quantity of time remaining for you and your lady together. But, know this: your destinies interlock in some way."

The crone! She always spoke in riddles. He had little patience for this now.

"What do you mean, Madam? Marriage?"

"It is not yet revealed my child. All I can tell you is this – she is the lady you've been searching for. But you'll have to search to find her. That is your task. You've been preparing for this. But…hmmm….." she paused as she held the stone cup closer to her, squinting in the faint light from the candle that had been burning too long on a nearby mantle, pooling wax at it's base.

"What is it? What do you see?" he demanded. He knew by the expression on her face she bore ill tidings.

"There is a man. A dark menacing man, my Lord. He is the most evil in all of England. He is the one you seek – for the twenty seven maids in this and two other counties who mysteriously disappeared these last two and a half years."

"Good." The Sheriff replied. Not understanding that the two visions Mortianna had seen were not two, but related because they were just one. "Let me know where that bastard is, and I'll deal with him after I find my lady. Now, for pity's sake woman! Tell me where my lady waits! Where is she held prisoner?"

She looked up from the cup and placed it back on the table. Her face softened as she locked her eyes on his. Reaching across the table she placed one gnarled hand on his arm. The Sheriff squinted looking down at her hand, then found her eyes with his. Puzzled, he started to speak, but was interrupted before he could begin.

"My lord. This man is the one who holds your lady prisoner."

He got up from the table, spun around, and paced a few moments. Then he flew back to where she sit, leaning down on the table to meet her eyes, and said "But she is alive! Tell me where she is. We'll find her. We'll find them all, me and my men. Finally I'll have joyous news for twenty seven families!"

Mortianna lowered her gaze and shook her head while she replied softly "No my child. Those twenty seven maids are dead. His crimes are unspeakable. The maids were kept prisoner for a time. I do not know how long. He killed them in cold blood. They lie buried not far from the terrible place he holds them." The words trailed off in a distance, like the ghosts they spoke of.

The Sheriff sat back down. He felt sick. He grabbed the edges of the table, bent his head down, then slowly raised it. His eyes blazed with rage and determination. He finally got his will back, Mortianna thought.

"Where is she?" was all he said in a low whisper.

"She is being held captive in an abandoned castle. Some 200 miles in the distance, north east."

"We leave tomorrow." He replied as he got up to leave. As he exited the door, Mortianna looked again at the tea leaves in the cracked stoneware cup. She squinted into it again, seeing something she hadn't before.

"Hurry my Lord." She whispered out loud. "She gives you a child."


	4. Chapter 4

He languished in blissful dreams. Dreams of adventure. Sultry nights with his beautiful maid. Making merry with his men. He buried his face closer to her cheek and breathed in the lily and heather scent of Meridwyn's hair. Just then, a noise woke him. He bolted up from the bed. A page was standing in his private chambers. Meridwyn sat up and held the bed linens closer about her to shield her naked breasts.

"What in God's nightgown do you want? This better have extreme importance to cause your abrupt intrusion!" he barked as he got out of bed and threw on his robe.

"Yes sir, it is important. I was instructed by the Sheriff to convey he requests your presence in the Council Quarters immediately, Sir Gisborne."

"Now? What could possibly be so…" then he knew.

"He asked me to stress it's high priority. Prepare for a journey. Bring your things with you to the Council Quarters thirty minutes from hence."

He sat on the bed after the page had left. Meridwyn reached over to him and held his face.

"Must you leave?"

Guy held her hand and looked at her. "Yes my love. I think I know what this is about. It concerns a maid of Nottingham County, but I'm afraid I cannot divulge any more of the matter." He caressed her hair. "I must go, but I will return."

Everyone assembled, the Scribe called their attention to his master. Then the Sheriff stood and spoke.

"Men, I've called you to this meeting now because time is of the essence. Not only have I learned the whereabouts a Nottingham maid is being held, but her captor is the man we've been seeking in the matter of the disappearances of the twenty seven maids in this and two other counties. You already know of those cases. So you understand the importance."

"You have a suspect in mind, cousin?" inquired Guy.

"All I know is where he is, that he holds the maid of Nottingham captive, and that he is responsible in the abduction and murders of the missing maids."

"God's Nightgown!" exclaimed Duke Farnsworth. The Sheriff's lead investigator knew this concerned Lady Rhiannon, but he kept it to himself. Knowing the Sheriff had only told he and Guy about the matter. He met eyes with the Sheriff. The Sheriff nodded in affirmation of his suspicion.

Officer Curran spoke.

"How long will we be gone, my Lord Sheriff? Will we be traveling far?"

"Yes. It's a great distance indeed, James. We must venture to the north. It will take at least a fortnight to get there, assuming we can actually locate the abandoned castle easily. Bring plenty of containers for water. For you, and your horses." He said as he looked around the table to the rest assembled.

"When do we depart, my Lord?" Guy asked.

"In one hour. We'll meet back at the gate. I have to pay a visit first."

In the early morning he ventured to Lady Rhiannnon's home. He had promised her lady Rebeccah when he knew anything he would speak to her. He could have sent anyone to do it for him but for once he chose to deal with the matter in person. He approached the door. He could see Rebeccah was already awake by the light shining though the windows. The door opened. It was clear she was taken by surprise by his unexpected visit.

"My Lord! Have you news of my lady? Please come in." she opened the door wide and beckoned inside. He followed. How to tell her tactfully?

"My lady Rebeccah, I came to inform you lady Rhiannon is alive. I believe this to be true, but my men and I must depart. We need to travel a distance to get to her."

"Is she in danger, my Lord?"

"Yes, my lady, she is. That's why I must leave soon. I will do my best to find her, you know that don't you?"

"Yes my Lord, I know you will. What can I do?"

"Keep minding her home. And….whatever it is that you people do… pray?"

"I have been my Lord. Maybe you should too. It wouldn't hurt." She replied in a slightly patronizing tone.

Unfazed by this, the Sheriff didn't miss a beat.

"I've always found it best to occupy myself in times of crisis my lady, rather than sitting idle talking to a God who does not listen."

Her jaw dropped. He was spouting heresy! But she knew he loved her lady. She tried to conceal her shock. It didn't matter. He wasn't watching her. He was already near the door.

"Yes, my lady. You pray." He said turning around to face her. "And I'll go find her and return her to us both." And in a moment he was gone.

Days continued to pass. Autumn turned to winter, and now the air was warmer. She could smell the faint hint of heather wafting through the barred windows of her prison. She was miserable. Each day she laboured with the increasing weight of her belly, the incredible fatigue that mysteriously worsened over time. Rhiannon put it all together in her mind quite some time ago. She had remembered how Rebeccah felt when she was with child. Many years ago, when Rebeccah's husband was still living. There was a child. The child died in her cradle only a few months old. Rebeccah became widowed a year after that. Rhiannon remembered though. She recalled being curious because she had no mother to speak with her about such things. Rebeccah never revealed much, but Rhiannon got enough information then to figure out she bore the Sheriff's child now. She had no idea what her dark prince would think of the situation. Did it even matter? She and the child would never see him again. She had no idea where she was, but from the restricted view from her window she knew she was no where near Nottingham Castle, even Nottingham County! She would have to raise this child alone. That is, if she and the child could escape from here. With very little but the clothes on her back, and milk to offer the baby, she knew that there was a greater chance they would both die, then the fairytale family reunion that she would prefer.

There was no use anymore holding on to the fantasy of seeing her lover again. She had a remote chance of making that happen by escaping on her own. With a baby to care for, in the weakened state she was in, she knew it could not be. She would have to find a way to plan her escape before the baby arrived. There was no other way this would work. As her belly became visible, eventually even her captor became disinterested in her. For the last several weeks, she hadn't seen him. The only contact was when he wordlessly brought her food. She recalled the day he confronted her.

"A baby is it wench?" he hissed as he pointed to her belly, and slapped her across the head knocking her falling. She only looked up at the hooded figure with a determined resolve.

"You little whore!" he whispered as he bent down to her. "You're all alike. Didn't see a ring on your finger the night I grabbed you. And look at you now!" he laughed. "Nobody is going to help you now. Even your lover won't help you!" he spat. Then his tone changed cadence to that menacing whisper that haunted her dreams.

" So…. what to do with the two of you? You are no use to me. The child is another matter. But YOU wench!" he said as he kicked her "…are nothing but a useless whore. I can use your child, but don't expect to live much longer after it is birthed from your body!" he punctuated this by closing his ugly hand around her exposed throat, but then released it. Just enough to leave the faint hint of the threat. And with that he left, never to speak to her again.

Yes, she needed to get out of here. But how? She couldn't bring herself to think about how she would manage to birth a child with no midwife in attendance. That thought was too overwhelming to consider. She needed to focus in steps. Step one – get out of this prison. Step two – figure out where you are. Step three – start back to Nottingham. Step four – go through the birth of the the baby when the time came, but not until after the first three steps. Thus, she never considered that the Sheriff's baby may be born anywhere besides back at home, or more than likely in a field somewhere between wherever she was and home. She never once considered what the plan would be, what needs take shape if the worst possible situation happened. If she went into labour while held captive in this god – forsaken prison! Everything around her already seemed hopeless. It was a good thing the thought never occurred to her. For surely she would've given up entirely, if she stopped to consider the possibility for just a moment.

There was movement. Lately, there were times it took her breath away. She stood to gaze out the window from her darkened cell. The sunlight beamed through lighting her face as if to taunt her. In the cold dark room, she rubbed the small of her back. It was coming in waves, this odd aching sensation. Sometimes the aching would spread to her hips and upper thighs. She noticed this since dawn. She needed to get comfortable.

She curled up on the bed and wistfully though of the Sheriff. Even after all this time, his face was indelibly imprinted in her mind. Anytime she felt weakened and hopeless, she held onto this thought, the memory of him, and that one beautiful night. She prayed for the possibility that even if she never saw his face again in this life, her child could at least be saved and given a father. She knew her time was drawing to a close. She wished with all her heart that her dark prince, the Sheriff of Nottingham, would not only know he had a child, but would raise the child for them in her absence. She smiled and closed her eyes. She was tired. She knew she'd be with him again. In dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

The Sheriff sat by the fire at camp. Everyone was asleep. He told all of his men to rest, stating he would keep watch for the night. They looked at him oddly. There was no reason at this point in time for anyone to keep watch. They were too far away for the man they were seeking to supect he was being pursued.

He sat on the ground resting his hand on his raised knee, his other hand toying with the kindling in the firepit. Staring into the dancing flames he allowed his mind to wander.

"Are you cold my Lady? Perhaps I should add more wood to the fire." She was trembling.

"Mmm. No my Lord." She breathed. "Just hold me. It warms me enough."

He held her naked body to him, breathed in the intoxicating scent of her hair. He caressed it as he spoke.

"I regret we didn't meet sooner my lady." He whispered into her ear as he held her to him.

"Yes. I've thought the same." She moved in even closer and brought her leg up, extending it around his waist. "But at least we did meet, my Lord." She whispered.

"Yes." He said as he bent his head down to kiss hers. At the same time he ran his hand along her extended thigh, inching his fingers toward the innermost part. He found the moist flesh. She moaned. "Oh….Sheriff….."

"My lady…." He growled as he rolled on top of her again.

"Cousin?" he didn't hear Guy approach. The Sheriff shook his head and looked up at him.

"Do you think we are closing the gap on this sick bastard?" Guy asked.

"We must be getting close…." Truthfully, the Sheriff didn't know.

"An abandoned castle…we've traveled a great distance. We must be near. I'll take half the regiment past the trees in the morning. Perhaps we can meet back here at high noon to discuss our findings?" Guy proposed in an effort to reassure the Sheriff.

"She could be dead." The Sheriff spoke in a hushed monotone.

"What's that you say, cousin?"

"She could be dead." He repeated slightly more audible but in the same flat tone.

"Cousin?" Guy looked at him, questioning.

"I might have wasted everyone's time, cousin." He spoke as he got up pacing back and forth.

Guy sensed it. His cousin was feeling fear and doubt probably for the first time in his life. He sensed the foreign feeling was possibly sending his cousin into a slight panic. He approached him.

"But cousin, you can't…" he was cut off.

"That loathed animal has kidnapped and murdered over two dozen maids cousin! Right under my nose! Only one woman remained alive when we left Nottingham." He turned and looked at him. "What are the chances now?" he looked up and cried out then started walking swiftly beyond the clearing. Guy trailed closely behind.

"Come now cousin!" Guy called "This isn't like you!"

The Sheriff stopped in his tracks and turned around. He bent his head and said "I've never felt loss before cousin. It's a powerless feeling. Never in my life."

"But your parents!" Guy exclaimed.

"True that." The Sheriff said as he raised his head with one eyebrow lifted. "I've missed the absence of parents on occasion a long time ago, but I haven't missed my parents. I never knew them. How could I miss them?"

"You can't let this weigh you down. Don't let it destroy your reason for coming. It won't help her." He paused. "If she's alive….it won't help her."

"These cursed thoughts intrude my mind! I've never had one person to worry about until now. How do I stop the worry?"

"You don't." Guy replied. "You never stop. But you find a way to use it to your advantage." Another pause. "You've never given up before. Of all times for you to that, this is the most important time not to. So maybe you should ask yourself - are you considering giving up because you figure the odds are stacked against you? That there's a good chance we've arrived too late? Or – are you willing to give up because the powerless feeling makes you feel weak? Perhaps your pride prevents you from being anything but a bachelor your entire life." Guy tried not to smirk and lowered his head. He knew that would shake him out of this insufferable state.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow, stunned for a moment. "You surprise me cousin. In many ways." He was most of all surprised at Guy's wit, not that he just underhandedly insulted him. He went on.

"I have grave concerns for my lady. Know this: I would never give up what she has given to me because it might hurt too much. I could never hurt, as long as she was near."

"Then you know what you must do." Guy agreed.

"Yes. I hope we're not too late." He sighed.

They started back towards the fire. Guy started to take a sip from his canteen when the Sheriff spoke.

"She's good for you. Meridwyn. Once you get back to Nottingham, don't ever let her out of your sight."

"Of course my Lord. But the danger will be lessened, because we'll have killed the murderous bastard by then."

"Ahh but cousin….we must never rest on our laurels." The Sheriff said, sounding more like himself as he put his arm around Guy while they walked. "The world is full of insects. One day they'll last longer than all of us. There will always be a murderous bastard to pursue."

"Yes. As long as we've ensured the safety of ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn while we're pursuing these….uhh….insects."

"Once I've dealt with him, and rescued her, and she's back at Nottingham Castle, I shall never let Lady Rhiannon out of my sight. Nothing shall keep me from leaving her. I may annoy her with attention." He chuckled. They talked for awhile – laying the best plans for attack once they located the abandoned castle. Weeks later, those words he's just spoken to Guy would haunt him.

Whack…..her ears were ringing. She woke out her slumber abruptly. It was dark. That was all she knew. Then it dawned on her….Oh God! He was here! He seemed more enraged than he'd ever been. She opened her eyes tentatively. She wanted to move but was paralyzed in fear. Finally, she willed herself to obey and managed to sit up.

"You've had it in you long enough whore. It's time to give me that child!"

"What?!" she was incredulous.

"Are you obtuse as well? I know whom the child belongs to. Thanks wench! Now I can get me some gold….how to go about this?" he said rubbing his hands together in cold anticipation.

He whacked her on the back of the head. She fell backwards. She drifted off, into dreams that would from thence last weeks. As she drifted in and out, she saw the face of her lover. The very first glimpse of him. She remembered his first kiss, carrying her through the doors to his private chambers, laying her on his bed. The silk linens, his breath on her neck, in her ear. That unmistakable scent of musk and English leather. The day she realized she carried her lover's child. And then…..blackness.

Some several hours later, she awoke screaming. Hot, sharp, like a white hot knife coursed through her to the depths of her abdomen. Sigh….it relaxed. It was gone. She was sore… Oh my God! The realization…..He shall never want me now, if have a hope in hell of finding him he'll never…..want….. There it was again. Sudden, sharp, it took her breath away. The horror of realization when it again subsided. She knew why she was still alive. The Sheriff's child kept her alive, all this time. To be used for ransom. Of course! Now she was going into labour. Oh God! Not here!

I must be silent, she thought. I'll move between pains to look for an escape. It's too soon! Then it came again, the agonizing pain. Eventually, she was uncertain how many hours later. It seemed continuous. Sharp, white hot searing pain. She was in and out of conciousness from the pain. When she was lucid she was either breathing hard and trying not to scream, or wretching with nausea. Finally she felt an odd pressure, and an urge to bear down.

After what seemed like hours, she knew she was delivered. She reached down and grabbed the child. She tore the ribbons off her white slipdress to tie the cord as tightly as she could in two places. She reached under the bed for the dull knife she had saved at mealtime to take with her when she escaped from here. She painstakenly sawed through the cord. Task completed, she lie on the bed with the babe next to her skin to skin. The child let out a gasp, then a soft cry after 5 seconds or so and lie alert yet quiet as lady Rhiannon fell back on the pillow clutching her baby to her breast plotting her next move. She needed to wash, at the small basin in the corner. Water! We need water! Her mind raced. She looked at her baby, the image of it's father. She felt bliss, and a determination to survive. Then, she felt an odd heat course through her body, and warm sticky liquid flow from her, pooling around her. She looked at the baby again, then she looked skyward. In a panic that she knew was utterly futile she cried out softly "My Lord….you must come quick! I'm bleeding…. Our child!..." she breathed softly. Her eyelids grew heavy. She tried fighting to stay awake because she knew closing them meant death. The child squirmed on her chest but lay content. After a time, as the blood continued she couldn't get warm. Her breath began to labour and her vision blurred. Before they went dim, she thought she saw the hooded face of her captor looming over her, then feel the weight of her baby lift off her chest…..


	6. Chapter 6

In the cool of the even, he felt it lash at his face as he tightened the reigns on the horse to slow it to a cantor. Spring rain was beginning. It was time for the dusk briefing. Each day at high noon and dusk, the troops lead by the Sheriff and Guy in two teams, met back at the clearing wherever camp was set up to discuss any findings. From there they would travel again at night, advancing further in their quest. He arrived at the clearing. It was at dusk on this night in May, he had news.

"We found an abandoned castle." Guy spoke for his group. "It was by chance we found it. It is well concealed by trees."

"Sounds suspicious enough to me." The Sheriff said. "Do you think it's worth a try?"

"I think it's worth further investigation, yes." Recommended Gisborne.

A few hours later inside the dark abandoned castle, the Sheriff, Guy, and Duke Farnsworth entered into the attic after thoroughly covering the top floors, while another team covered the main floor and sub level. It was cold and dark. Guy suggested leading them, in an effort to shield his cousin from the worst outcome if need be. He didn't mention the reason to the Sheriff. He squinted to adjust his vision in the dark, which seemed heightened in the attic. Thirty feet away by the window he saw a figure on a small bed. They proceeded slowly. Soon he saw it. Blood. There was so much blood! He turned around to face the Sheriff.

"It appears this room is empty, My Lord." He said.

The Sheriff knew right away he was lying. He pushed him aside. At first he didn't know what he was seeing. He walked slowly closer to the bed. Duke Farnsworth cast a glance at Guy. Guy met his eyes, then shook his head in regret. The Sheriff stopped after a few steps when suddenly, the horror. There his lady lay, in blood! In a lot of blood. He was filled with rage. He shall not live, the Sheriff thought. That sick. Loathsome. Animal.

"GAH!!" he groaned, his mouth agape. He turned and cast his gaze downward. Duke Farnsworth advanced closer to the Sheriff, and Guy advanced toward the scene.

"I knew it!" the Sheriff cried out. "Even I couldn't save her. We were too …." He was cut off.

"She Breathes!" Guy shouted abruptly, startling them both. They turned to look at him.

"She's very ill, my Lord. I do not know why the blood. I see bruises. No cuts, yet she bleeds." He spoke rather puzzled.

"Get out of the way!" the Sheriff barked. For once, sounding like the person he was so many months ago. He pushed Guy aside. He stood a moment and looked down upon his lovely Rhiannon. Her skin was palid as the ghastly blood stained snow white sheet that covered her. The laces from her gown were missing, oddly. Her hair lay damp next to her face and neck, and her skin was damp to touch. Her lips had all but lost their colour. She looked to be in a deep sleep, and almost as if not breathing. He removed his glove and held his palm over her mouth. He felt warm air touch his skin, lightly, in a whisper. Her energy. It breathed life into him.

"I found you." He whispered as he dropped to his knees beside her. "Live….my beautiful lady. Live for me." He picked her up and held her to him, kissing the top of her head. She was limp as a rag doll. He turned to toward Guy, Duke Farnsworth, and the rest of the men who were now gathered there in the attic.

"Well don't just stand there!" he barked.

He pointed to Duke Farnsworth. "You! Select your best men and sweep the castle now. I want the exits sealed immediately. Bring me this hooded viper!"

"You!" he turned to Guy. "I need supplies for my lady. I need rags for this blood. Blankets to warm her. Hot brandy to offer her. Now!"

The men scattered after nodding understanding of their assigned tasks. The Sheriff chose not to move. He sat on the bed, holding Rhiannon to him and rocking her.

"Oh my lady…..Rhiannon." he whispered. "You endured for me." He lay her back down on the bed, and began to undress her. Her skin was damp, he needed to warm her. Using torn up sheets and the water he found in a basin on a washstand he proceeded to wash her skin. He found a small blanket nearby to dry her. Quickly, he removed his heavy cloak. Large enough to completely cover her, and warm enough it would be like a blanket. Gently, he wrapped her in it, then rubbed her to keep her warm. He kept feeling a warm liquid seep through it. He knew she was bleeding. It must have been some strange poison. He found no visible wounds that would cause it, save for bruises.

"Live for me, my brave lady." He begged her softly. "You shall be my Lady Nottingham."

Later, back at camp, the Sheriff was in his tent with Lady Rhiannon. He would not leave her. He hadn't eaten or taken a drop of water since their return. A thorough sweep of the castle and the grounds turned up nothing but a few bloodstained ribbons from Lady Rhiannon's white gown, and a fairly dull dinner knife, which was strangely discovered under the bed. Guy came in to check on Lady Rhiannon and offer sustenance to his cousin.

"Cousin, please drink. I've brought you some bread and cheese as well." He said as he placed a tray on a table.

"There is so much blood." The Sheriff replied, as if not hearing Guy's words. "Why is there so much blood, cousin? What insidious poison was forced upon my Lady?"

"I don't know for certain, but, maybe there's a way I can find out."

The Sheriff picked up a goblet of ale and sipped it slowly. He stroked Rhiannon's face with a cool damp cloth and rubbed her skin trying desperately to wake her.

"Come back to me, my Lady." He whispered to her. He rested on the bed leaning against pillows and held her close to him. He bent down and kissed her hair. Even after the long months of being held in that cold dark room she smelled almost like she did the first time he was this close to her. As sick as she was, bleeding, maybe dying, she still smelled intoxicating.

She fluttered her lashes, and moved her eyes around trying to focus. Where am I? Her vision was blurred. It was dark. Sometimes it was hard to discern night from day. As her vision adjusted she could see a glow from a lamp. Why is there light? The cold realization dawned on her. She stiffened. He must be getting ready to kill me! She tried to say something, but was unable to get the words out. Oh why did I wake? He's going to kill me!

The Sheriff felt her muscles go taut. It was the first since he'd found her she wasn't completely limp. He sat forward and repositioned her to see her face. Her eyes were open!

The mask was off. Why couldn't she see? All she could make out was the shape of a face, and a glow behind it. He had curly locks, she saw the silhouette of waves against the glow behind him. Then, despite her critically weakened state, again her defenses kicked in. In a sheer adrenaline state of self preservation, she found her voice. Finally, the words came….

"Get. Off. Me." She hissed in a low gravelly voice that sounded completely foreign to him. Before he could react, she brought it up a notch.

"OFF ME!" She suddenly shrieked as she shook free. "Get away from me!" She then screamed in a piercing cry. Amazingly, she stood abruptly then dashed to a corner, almost knocking the oil lamp. Her eyes were wild, darting. She shivered, and stood frozen in the corner. She never made eye contact, or acknowledged him.

"My lady…" he began to say as he walked toward her, a stunned look on his face.

Why couldn't she see this animal's face? She would not let him do to her, what he did to her before. Although she didn't remember any of it, she knew what he did. She felt it, right before she got sick and fainted.

"Nooooo!" she screamed and started to run past him obviously heading out of the tent. The Sheriff ran to catch her. She kicked him and then proceeded to run out of the tent. Running into the dark. She didn't care.

The Sheriff ran after her. She was wild. He couldn't help but wonder, just what had he done to her? What had that loathsome animal done to his lady? Finally he caught her. They collapsed to the ground. He hushed her and wouldn't stop holding her though she screamed and cried for several minutes.

"My lady. My beautiful lady Rhiannon. I'm here." He said.

Finally, a realization.

"My lord?" she said softly as she broke free to look at him. She touched his face. She was just starting to finally see his face when she stiffened. Though she was overjoyed, she couldn't help withdrawing. He must never know. Must never know….

"You're awake. At last!" He spoke. "Come, my lady. You're still unwell." He moved toward her to grasp and lift her. Sensing another situation where'd she'd lose control again, she backed away, then stood up. She stood, staring at him a few moments when that panic arose once again. When she felt that odd familiar warmth rush through her again. Her head felt light, and she couldn't tell if her feet were on the ground or not. The colour drained from her, and she fell to the ground. Another pool of blood spread under her.

He picked her up and carried her past the confused faces of his men, back into the tent. Gently he placed her upon the bed and covered her. She fluttered her lids open.

"You came for me." She whispered. Her eyelids still fluttering.

"Yes my lady." He replied with a smile as he stroked her hair.

"It will be alright now." She said. She looked in his eyes yet the Sheriff was keenly aware her attention was somewhere else.

"My Love, hush. You must rest." He said as he brought the blankets about her. "You're safe now, my lady. I assure you."

She looked at him. For perhaps the first time since she awakened in this brief moment. And then:

"It's too late, my Lord." And with that she fell back into a very deep sleep. A slumber that ended up lasting weeks. Those five words never failed to haunt him henceforth.


	7. Chapter 7

The next twenty four hours continued on in the same manner. The Sheriff was in and out of sleep on a cot beside her. Over and over he kept playing the haunting words in his mind. Echos of that sultry voice sounding off in the distance - "It's too late." He lay on his side facing her. One arm under his pillow, the other extended. He reached out to touch her. He began to stroke her face. Finally, he found her. Whatever the mystery of that phrase, he wouldn't relent. He wouldn't let it matter.

When he awoke there was light. He blinked his eyes, and looked over at Rhiannon. He bolted abruptly. She lay shivering, her skin hot and dry. He quickly put on his coat and ventured outside. Guy was by the fire with James Curran, heating brandy for Lady Rhiannon.

"Cousin, there's something amiss with my lady. She is worse!" He spoke up.

Officer Curran interrupted him. "My lord, if I may. Before I left, my wife gave me a special blend tea. She said it could be used to help the lady of Nottingham, but only if she was in a state like this."

"What!" The Sheriff grabbed him by the collar. "Why didn't you say anything? She's been ill for days you fool!"

"I wasn't quite certain my lord, Sheriff. You see, my Margaret is a midwife. And, well, she knows all about those other things with the ladies." He winked.

"What are you talking about?" The Sheriff asked suspiciously.

"Oh. Yes! Quite right, James!" Guy agreed, then nodded to the Sheriff. "He's quite right, cousin."

"You both speak in riddles. Whatever nonsense are you blabbering about?"

"You know, sire." Guy shifted nervously, leaning in to lower his voice. "That thing they do, when they bleed."

"No". The Sheriff disagreed. "Not like this. It can't be normal to bleed like this. She's unconscious for God sake! I think it's some insidious poison, myself."

"It's worth a shot, sire." Guy spoke.

"It's a special blend tea made from wheatgrass my Lord." James continued. "My Margaret says it will slow bleeding considerably." He boasted.

"Alright, fine. Whatever." The Sheriff huffed in resignation. "Bring it then. Why not? Lets put crosses on her and pray too. You do that. Since I know it probably won't harm her, I'll permit it. And while you two try to get the tea past her tongue, I'll go and look for useful tangible items that can bring down her fever!" He rolled his eyes. "Wheatgrass tea indeed!" he muttered in disgust as he continued to another tent where the provisions were kept.

He had to get her well enough to travel. The safest place for her was in Nottingham. She would receive care in Nottingham Castle. He would make certain of it. But it couldn't come to pass until she was well enough to sustain the journey. There was something dreadfully amiss. True, he didn't know very much of these things, but he never knew any of his comrades wives or maidens to be laid up unconscious for days on a regular basis. No matter what Guy, James, or anyone could tell him, there was something seriously awry with lady Rhiannon. Suddenly he wished the witch was nearby. She'd know what to do. It was times like this, though there'd been few up to now, he wished for a mother or a sister who knew what to do. He gathered the blankets, some rags, and a large container for water and returned to his tent. Guy was holding Rhiannon's head up while James held the cup to her lips. She managed to sip some but wouldn't open her eyes. He dismissed them, then began sponging her with cool cloths. Occasionally he'd pause to offer more of the tea.

By evening he was exhausted. Rhiannon still lay in her cot, motionless. The bleeding had slowed, yet she was very hot to touch and had not yet waken from her slumber. He needed rest, yet he'd never felt so awake. He wouldn't leave her. After the long months filled with worry, he was not prepared to leave her now. Even though she had the Sheriff, and was surrounded by his men for protection, the killer remained at large.

The worry and lack of sleep took its toll on the Sheriff. He was restless, constantly shifting positions when he would sit still. Most of his time was spent pacing, or occupying himself doing things for his Lady to restore her. After long moments of this, he went over to her. He bent down and stroked her face.

"My lady. Come back to me. I'm here." He said as he stroked her silky hair. He kissed her forehead and began offering her tea again. She started to taste the hot liquid. Her eyelids began to open and close rapidly. Not relishing the thought of another panicked episode like the day before he kept silent, willing himself not to speak. He didn't know what his lady endured these long month they'd been apart. He knew at first sight of her laying on the bed. Pale and weak. The blood. She'd endured enough. But her reaction the first hour of her waking was a shock. It wasn't exactly the reaction the Sheriff had been expecting any time he allowed himself to imagine finding her alive and well. This time he waited for her to wake. She moaned softly, shaking her head. He could tell she was dreaming, of God only knew whatever she had been through. The Sheriff decided it was best not to startle her.

"My lord…." She moaned with her eyes still closed. The last time he'd hear her voice for weeks.

The Sheriff stroked her cheek. She lay there in a stuporous state. Semi conscious. The Sheriff bent down and kissed her forehead. The strain of the last few days had been taking a toll on him. He seldom complained, but now that she was in his care, he knew he'd have to start taking better care of himself.

Guy poked his head in to see if the Sheriff needed anything.

"Is everything alright in here?" he asked.

"What do you think, cousin? Look at her! It's been two days since we found her. I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever be able to move her?"

"Sure you will, cousin." Guy said as he entered the tent. "The men and myself have been talking."

"I see." The Sheriff said as he stood up. He poured some brandy into a goblet and took a sip. "And what exactly have you been discussing in my absence?" he challenged.

"We think that when the time is appropriate to move the lady home, some of us should stay behind. Find this sick bastard."

"Really. You decided this amongst yourselves?"

"Yes, cousin." Guy said.

"What am I to do then?" he huffed.

"Take care of your lady, my Lord."

"Yes. Yes. I know that. But my job is to arrest that man for his crimes. I want him."

"You shall have him my Lord. When we find him."

"No. No! I want him. I want to be there when he is captured. I want to savour the look on his face when I tell him about the slow painful death we have planned for him." He said with a grin.

"What slow painful death?"

"I don't know. I'll think of something." The Sheriff replied.

"Well, there's always the spoons." Guy said.

"No. No, can't do that, cousin. It's already been done. Must remain original." The Sheriff said.

The following night proved to be another sleepless one for the Sheriff. Even if he had agreed to let one of his men relieve him for a spell of keeping watch over his lady he was too wound up to sleep. She still hadn't awakened. Gradually, it seemed she was less hot to touch but she wasn't out of danger yet. He was able to get her to drink. He was alternating between the special blend wheatgrass tea with water. Thinking it might be better for her. God only knew what the magical healing ingredient of the tea was. And since he was certain she must have been poisoned he didn't want to cause further harm by giving her too much of the tea. At some point he decided now was as good a time as any to move her back to Nottingham Castle. She needed care that was beyond his realm. He had a personal physician but decided it best for Officer Curran's wife, and Mortianna the witch to share her care. This matter that made her so ill could be specific to ladies. When she wakened, she may be horrified to find an unfamiliar man had examined her. He'd seen Mortianna perform miracles before. He also knew something of Lady Margaret, dating back to a night not long ago. Following too many goblets of brandy, James had boasted his wife was so talented, she pretty well delivered their last child by herself.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe the eagerness to bring her home. He didn't know. He didn't care. Sometime during the course of the night he came to a conclusion. He awakened with the realization that Guy's suggestion for a small group to remain behind didn't seem such a bad idea after all. His primary concern was Lady Rhiannon. He had to start moving her. Now. He would speak to James. He requested James accompany him home. He needed him. He needed the aid of his wife. And he hoped Mortianna would know what to do in the meantime.

Guy and Duke Farnsworth chose to remain with a small group of men. They requested six. The Sheriff shook his cousin's hand. He promised to give a message to Meridwyn, and return as soon as it was safe to do so, when his Lady showed improvement.

"If you and the Duke think you've found him… I want him. Alive."

"Yes, cousin. Understood."

The Sheriff started on his journey home with a few of his men, James Curran, and of course his lady, Rhiannon. The journey went smoothly. The weather was pleasant. His lady was still not awake, but he knew she was gradually improving.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he had her past the Castle gates, through the doors, and up the circular stairs. Insisting she stay in his private chambers. He was emphatic. He sent the Scribe to send for Mortianna at once.

Mortianna arrived carrying a small sack. She opened it and poured the contents on the table beside the bed where Lady Rhiannon lay still. Beside the sack on the table was a chain, jars of liniments, and what appeared to be tea leaves tied in gauze fabric. She asked to be excused to examine the Maid of Nottingham. After a lengthy interval, and the scent of lavender increasingly permeating the air. He suspected a fragranced ointment, she returned to him with news.

"My lord Sheriff." She said.

"How is my lady, Mortianna?" he asked

"You did the right thing. The tea was appropriate. Heals the blood. Perhaps erases the mind though." Her voice trailed off. Here we go again. More of Mortianna's riddles.

"Yes. Yes. Go on, Madam!" he all but begged impatiently.

"She's no longer untouched. But you already knew that." She said. It was not a question, but a statement. He was stunned. How on earth could anyone know? His guards didn't know. Even she, how could she know he'd bedded her?

"Madam, explain yourself! Quickly! Before I rip your black heart out and burn it!" he spat, challenging her.

She paused a moment then looked in his eyes and said "She has borne a child, my Lord."


	8. Chapter 8

He grabbed her shoulders. "What! What? Impossible! How dare you accuse her of…." He was cut off.

"I'm almost certain my Lord. A child takes a good deal of time to grow. I believe she had a difficult time of it, which explains the blood. But Lady Margaret will know best." A pause. "You did send for her?" she asked.

He was stunned. He just stood starting at her.

"Did you see a small babe in the premises my Lord?" she asked matter of factly, as if it were an ordinary question.

He was still completely stunned. He started to pace the room. She was about to speak when he held up his hand to silence her and interrupted.

"Enough Madam! Slow down. This cannot be." He said. "She was the only one we saw there. Mordrid did a thorough sweep of the Castle and the grounds. It's impossible. There was no evidence an infant had been there."

"No." she disobeyed. "Not impossible. How long since you last laid eyes on her. Think." She jarred his memory.

"Last autumn." He realized it. His mouth flew agape.

"Enough time has passed my Lord. Another part of you is out there." She said.

"My child." He said softly, barely audible. "I need time." He said. He asked her to return to the Lady to do whatever it was she planned to do to restore her. He hoped James would bring his wife soon. Within a few hours of dismissing Mortianna, the Scribe appeared to announce the arrival of Officer Curran and his wife. The Midwife, lady Margaret. He showed her into his private chambers where his lady was resting. Now it was Lady Margaret's turn to examine her. Soon, she returned to the Sheriff's den, outside of the private chambers. He arose from his seat.

"My Lord Sheriff, I must agree with the witch. I'm very certain this Maid of Nottingham has borne a child. Not long ago. I suspect hours before you found her." The stout woman said calmly, with a very soothing tone to her voice.

He looked at her. "How are you so convinced? We found her alone. There was no child with her. How do you know there had been one in the first place?" he challenged her.

She didn't hesitate a response. "Your lady has milk to nurse an infant. That only appears when a maiden has borne a child." She said.

He sighed. "You have more to tell me." He said gravely.

"Yes. I believe the afterbirth came too soon, and that is how she started her pains. It brings the labour on suddenly though. This caused her to bleed more than an average maiden would. She lost a lot of blood. Slipped into a deep sleep, and now she needs rest and plenty of fluids. However I fear she also needs the help of a physician. She is sick with fever, my Lord. I fear she may need to be bled."

"You are not familiar with the procedure?" he asked her pointedly.

"Well, I did work with your own personal physician last winter. I consulted him about my charge. She too had fever. I did watch the technique as he bled her." She replied.  
"Do it." He said to her. "I'd prefer to minimize contact with too many strangers. There is something you see. I cannot put my finger on it." He paused. "You do not think a poison could do this?" he asked.

"Not by itself my Lord. I do think your theory holds merit. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if she was poisoned some time after she delivered the child."

"I knew it." He whispered. "When she did wake, she was a wild animal! She did not know me!"

"Another reason she should be bled." She replied.

"You are sure?" he asked again.

"That is my recommendation, yes."

"What do you recommend in the interim while you gather the necessary supplies?"

"Continue what you've already been doing, my Lord. Everything you've done so far is the reason she's still alive." She said with a smile. She walked over to him. He looked so different suddenly. Softer. Open. Approachable. She extended her hand and lightly touched his arm.

"It will be alright, my Lord. I'm staying."

He was so overwhelmed with gratitude he could not verbalize a response. He nodded and sat down. A child. He knew immediately why his lady had been sacrificed. Any day now, it will come. The scroll. The demands.

He stayed by her side that night. Sitting on the bed with her. In and out of sleep. He'd wake with a start from an ache in his neck, or a feeling of urgency. A need to start back on the journey. To rescue his child.

Lady Margaret returned with several implements to initiate the procedure. She silently commenced her work, and carefully bled Rhiannon into a basin. The procedure took an hour, then the Sheriff dismissed her, stating he'd stay with his Lady to continue observation. She relented. He finally drifted off to sleep. He didn't know it, but during the night in one of his sleep phases, his Lady lightly stroked his arm.

Three days later he was finishing a Council meeting when it came. He was just pouring some water in a silver goblet when the Scribe approached him.

"My Lord Sheriff…there is boy messenger come to see you. He brings a scroll. He insists he must see you in person."

The Sheriff knew right away.

"Bring him to me."

The Scribe stepped out and moments later returned with the lad who looked to be around twelve years. He advanced closer when the Sheriff beckoned for him to approach.

"You have a message for me." The Sheriff spoke.

"Yes, sir. My master asked me to to place this scroll directly into the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Are you he, sir?"

"I am." The Sheriff replied as he held out a palm for the scroll and continued. "Might you tell me about your master, boy? Describe him to me."

"He's very tall. Like you sir. But bigger. That is all I know because I couldn't see him, sir." The lad replied.

"Couldn't see him?" the Sheriff repeated, puzzled.

"No sir. He was wearing a hood of some sort over his head. His face was hidden." The boy shuddered.

"Was he alone?" the Sheriff asked pointedly.

"Come to think of it….no. He had a little baby with him, but no wife. Rather odd I thought, sir!" the lad exclaimed.

The Sheriff felt the blood drain from his face.

"One more thing, boy." The Sheriff said to the lad. "Did you get a look at the infant? Was it well? A boy or a girl?" He asked. It didn't really matter since the child's life was at stake - the answer to the second question, but he was still curious.

"Yes. I did get a look, sir." The boy replied. "But I couldn't tell you what it was. It was wrapped in a white blanket. The baby had soft dark curls, green eyes, and chubby cheeks. Nice little babe. Twas a pity his father isn't so."

"It is mine." He whispered, barely audible to himself.

"Excuse me, sir?" the boy asked.

"That is fine, boy. That will be all." He said as took the scroll from him. Then he dismissed him.

He sat at a table and broke the wax seal, carefully opening the document. He began to read…

"My good Sheriff of Nottingham.

Debauched, and sought by maids.

You never deny yourself pleasure.

I have the child of your whore.

You think you can play me?

You'll have to compensate me first.

My Good Sheriff……

And by and by anon

Thine eyes shall see their fill

Of thine own face in the eyes of your cursed infant.

Whence you meet the demands as follows:

Meet me on the hill by the Castle where your maid

Was held prisoner.

Do this or it's off. Your bastard will die.

Come then, in a fortnight hence.

As the moon rises.

Bring me one thousand gold pieces.

Come alone.

These demands are non negotiable.

Do this or your failure to respect my requests will result in

both of their deaths.

Your bastard and your whore.

Trust we understand each other.

The fallen Knight."

The Sheriff was enraged. If he needed anything to fire his enthusiasm, he just got it. He presumes to know me. That will be his grave misfortune, the Sheriff thought.

Another knock. Will the intrusions never end?

"Yes."

The Scribe appeared again in the doorway.

"The witch has asked to see you, Sire."

"Very well." He waved a dismissal to the short old man. Mortianna then entered and paused in the doorway.

"I have an update on your lady." She said.

He got up and walked toward her. "What is it?" he asked.

"She seems to be improving. She's out of danger, and I think she may wake again soon."

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow and said "Again? You speak as if she's already awakened?"

"She did my Lord. Only for a few moments. You were in a town Council meeting. Everything seems to be well…" she continued "Save for one exception." She let the thought linger pregnant in the air.

"What is it?" he asked, curious.

"She has no recollection of a baby."

"And why do you suppose that is?" he asked the witch. The entire matter was getting to be so dauntingly full of questions. And what did his Lady mean by those words: "It's too late."?

"That remains a mystery. For whatever reason, she has lost her memory of it completely. Strangely, she does not have any memory of the child at all. In any way, shape, or form." She said shaking her head in awe.


	9. Chapter 9

The Sheriff grasped the silver goblet of water. Caressing the cool metal as he stopped to ponder Mortianna's words.

"Something dreadful happened to her." The Sheriff said.

"My Lord?" the crone questioned.

"You didn't see her when she wakened the first time. Her eyes were distant and wild. She was terrified. She wouldn't let me touch her. No! She wouldn't let me near her!"

"What has this to do with the baby she doesn't remember, my Lord?"  
"It all pieces together. Whatever happened before she first fainted. When he took the blessed babe from her. It all ties in somehow. He did something to her, I'm sure of it." He said as he took a sip from the goblet.

"That may be, my Lord. But a child is in danger. Your lady, it's mother doesn't know this. She's very fragile. I know you plan to depart soon to search for that child. You mustn't mention it to her." She advised him.

"Fine. Whatever. And when the child comes home, am I to lock it away? Again?"

"One step at a time, my child." She said "You still have to get there first."

"Who's watching my lady now?" the Sheriff interrupted the tedious conversation.

"Lady Margaret is with her." The witch replied. "You must heed my words, my Lord. I don't think it's wise to mention the child to Lady Rhiannon." She again reminded.

The Sheriff took a sip of water from his silver goblet. The same one he was attempting to drink from when the messenger intruded with the loathsome 'fallen Knight's' ransom demands. He was still in a foul temper from that document. This interruption with Mortianna telling him how to manage things with his lady, was too much to tolerate. He'd had enough of being told what to do for one day.

"Thank you Madam. You may go now." He said as he waved her off. She obeyed and left the room quietly.

He paused to take a moment to examine the incredible changes that had occured in his life in such a short span of time. His path came to a crossroads months before and took an entirely different direction. He tried to imagine what he'd be doing right now if he hadn't met Lady Rhiannon last autumn. He knew he had a purpose then, but suddenly he couldn't remember what it was. Ever since he approached her at the garden wall that Sunday in September of last year, he'd forgotten exactly what he'd designated his priorities as. When he thought about it, it encompassed a great deal much to do with his position in town, but nothing to do with him as a person. So what was I doing? He thought. Now, his life was completely different. He'd found the lady of his dreams. He loved her, lost her, then found her again. Then much of his time was spent concerning himself with getting her well, and out of danger. Now he had two people to suddenly worry about. And one very large fish to fry. How life had changed so much for the Sheriff of Nottingham. His mind raced, and he started to wonder about the infant. What would the child be doing at this moment in time? Crying? Sleeping? And then there it was...that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Worry, almost panic. Again.

The outlaw had left his lady for dead. Bleeding, barely covered in a cold room with a thin sheet for solace. He'd killed several other maidens in the last 2 years and had gotten away with it. The Sheriff couldn't help but wonder, how could a man like that, ever begin to tolerate a small infant, who's needs are so dependent? He shuddered to think how the man was managing the infant. He was enraged to think that the child was spending his or her first weeks of life with that sick murderous bastard, in his and Lady Rhiannon's stead. And there it was again, only this time it wasn't so much fear anymore, but anger. He was beginning to wonder if he knew this 'Fallen Knight'. The one who'd managed to escape capture for 2 years while the Sheriff and his men had scoured the lands looking for any signs of these missing maidens. He'd gotten away with the deaths of those maidens, almost succeeded in making his lady Rhiannon number twenty eight, and now - he'd upped the stakes to child kidnapping. Oh...revenge on this insect was going to be very sweet indeed. He was feeling stirrings of the old Sheriff bubble up to the surface as he briefly imagined various ways of making that miserable outlaw's last hours exceedingly painful.

He banged his fist on the table. He was in danger of losing his senses completely if he allowed himself to think too much on it. He had to do something. He arose and began his usual ritual of pacing. It was then he decided to go upstairs to check on his lady. He was glad she was improving. He loved the sight of her lying on his bed. Her silky hair framed by the satin pillows and linens. She was where she should be. Exactly where she belonged. His Lady Rhiannon. He never knew a woman so brave. She was too deserving. More perfect than his dreams would ever take him. He remembered a conversation a year ago with Guy. Guy asked him, why he'd never married. His reply was easy because he truly always believed it with conviction.

"I've never met a woman deserving enough. I suppose that makes me sound cruel and arrogant. I have no patience for their games. They're shallow, unable to converse, unable to speak without complaining, dispassionate..." Sigh "I could go on but it would take too long." he said nonchalantly. As if companionship didn't matter at all. He had needs like every other man, but he knew how to get what he wanted without the extra bother. It suited him perfectly. Once they began to make demands or complain, they were dismissed. It was a nice little arrangement. It met a basic need. Gave him no purpose but it worked at the time. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that until that September day, he wasn't really living. He was only existing. For what...the reason had completely escaped him now. Lady Rhiannon was too deserving. He did not deserve her. To him she was the image of perfection. He would never wish to go back. Whatever reasons he thought was fueling him before couldn't have been too important, if he now could not identify what that was. Not that long ago. She was heaven sent, which was odd because he no more believed there was a heaven, then he believed there was a god. But maybe, someone was out there watching over him. He would always remember...that precious September.

It was late. He didn't wish to talk to anyone. The Scribe had told him that a few townspeople had gathered and were waiting to discuss recent tax increases with him. He had no patience for this now. He would tell the Scribe to tell the villagers to come back at another time. There were too many matters to consider at the moment. The people would have to wait.

He exited the doorway from the Council Quarters. He saw a group of his advisors speaking with the Scribe down the hall to his right. He snuck away to the left. Immediately again on his left was another hall. A good way of making a fast exit. He could not sustain one more conversation with anyone at the present time. The one person he'd give anything to talk with, couldn't. Right now, all he wanted was to be near her. Especially since being informed she had already awakened once this day. He hoped she would again in his presence. Though not if she didn't recognize him.

Soon he was advancing up the circular stairs and through the oak doors. He loosened the buttons on his coat, removed it, then threw it on a chair. Then he fell into another chair placed close to the fireplace. He needed a few moments to clear the intrusive thoughts from his mind before going in to check on his lady. It had been such an arduous few weeks. No word from Gisborne. He was suspecting the Fallen Knight knew him. Too many oddly familiar things about him. The way he speaks - My Good Sheriff. Not many had given him that title. He truly believed he was acquainted with him in some way. He didn't know how. He was certain though, that the Fallen Knight knew Rhiannon in some way. Somehow he knew where to find her, knew who she was with, knew whom to play. It was as if it had all been staged! Maybe in some sick twisted way, the Fallen Knight had something to do with... I must stop this destructive line of thinking! the Sheriff thought to himself. I'm letting that insect break me.

The Sheriff sat leaned forward on his chair. His left leg was up resting on the table in front of him. He leaned on it, his chin on his hand. Lost in thought, He was seated parallel to the fireplace, the light from the fire casting a glow about him. Eyes closing, remembering her. Remembering September. When he met her. Her passion...He thought he'd heard a noise. In his peripheral vision he saw faint light. He turned to his right. There was light. The oak doors leading to his private chambers were ajar. She stood there. The light behind her gave the appearance there was a halo around her. She stood between the doors, both arms outstretched, a hand grasping the edges of either door. She lowered her eyelids, parted her mouth, then lowered her head. He felt chills rush down his spine. There, standing like that for that brief moment, surrounded by light, she truly looked like a martyr. A very beautiful martyr.

He stood up so abruptly the table in front of him toppled over. Then he recalled the first time she awakened in his presence. When she didn't know him. He advanced slowly, never taking his eyes off of hers. She seemed to be looking through him. She drew him into her in a kind of spell. He was bewitched. He finally stood before her, then advanced. She held out her arms, and placed her hands on his shoulders, then took a step back. She held up a hand to silence him and spoke to him in a whisper.

"My Lord. My Master. You've saved my life. It is time for your reward."

He raised his left eyebrow, in that devilish sexy expression that made her skin tingle with elation.

"It's okay." she said to him "I'm fine."

"I found you and brought you here, my Lady. That is true. It was not I who saved you. The witch Mortianna, and the Midwife, Lady Margaret take the credit for your much improved condition. Though, I fear you are not out of the woods yet." he said to her in a very protective manner.

She lowered her eyes again, looked at him from the corner of her eye, then slowly raised them to meet his. He got chills again. "This reward is best reserved for you...my Lord." she murmured. Then she stepped back one step further. She loosened the sash on her velvet dressing gown, opened it, slid it off her shoulders, and let it fall on the marble floor. And there she stood in front of him. Glowing. Beautiful. Wanting him. Naked...


	10. Chapter 10

And it was in that moment the Sheriff decided to forego challenging Lady Margaret for leaving his lady.

She advanced toward him slowly. He just stood fixed with an urgent look of hunger in his eyes. Now he started to eye her slowly up and down appreciatively. Then she was suddenly inches away from him. She slowly loosened the laces on his tunic, then slid it over his head. She ran her hands over his chest, then touched him. Feather light. He picked her up and carried her back to the bed.

"My lady, perhaps this isn't the right time." He said. As much as he wanted her, he wondered if it would be safe. He soon had his answer.

"My Lord, I've waited for this a long time. I'm ready." She whispered, leaning closer to his ear. In that low cadence that drove him wild. He was all over her. She was a tigress. Which almost confirmed his suspicions of the poison theory. She was caught up in some strange exotic spell, and he was drawn into it. Unable to break free. He was, literally, weak in the presence of beauty.

They explored each other in the forest primeval, their fantasy unfurled in the Sheriff's private chambers of Nottingham Castle. And then, something odd. While he was on top of her, moving inside of her, she suddenly cried out. Not like the usual sound of joy, but that of fear and pain. He wondered what she was thinking. He stopped and looked at her, but remained silent.

"No. No….." she softly cried. That strange glassy fog started to slowly coat her eyes again. Far away. Distant. She whispered inaudible phrases. She was no longer looking in his eyes. At that moment, he believed that she wasn't even there anymore, with him.

"My lady?" he asked softly.

She continued to stare at his chest, or maybe she was looking at nothing at all. So distant. Her face made a grimace, as if in recall of an unpleasant event in time.

"My lady, you're safe now." He whispered to her.

This time she responded. She paused to look at him. She looked into his eyes.

"Oh my Lord. You saved me." She sighed. Suddenly conscious she needed to be better on guard.

"I could not rest my lady." He said as he smoother her hair.

"You are my prince…" she purred in his ear.

"And you….Lady Rhiannon. Are my Lady of Nottingham. Lady of my heart… or are you?" He smiled and kissed her.

"My Lord?" she broke the kiss and looked at him, puzzled.

"My lady, what I'm asking you is this: will you be my wife?" he looked deeply into her eyes.

Her eyes widened, she searched his face, incredulous. Then she smiled, her eyes glistened , but she wouldn't let the tears form. "My Lord. You were my reason for being." She paused a moment to catch her breath and closed her eyes. He was still looking at her when she opened them again. "I will my Lord." She breathed in a sigh. Her mind was racing though the Sheriff had no idea. She looked so content, so peaceful, so …..not at all like a woman who's infant had been stolen from her by a murderous insect recently! He quickly quieted that thought when he saw the smile spread across her face. He did not know. How could he have known that at that moment she was thinking – He must never know. Must never know. You must act just like nothing happened. Like the only man who's ever touched you, is this man on top of you, inside of you, and gazing into your eyes. Your dark prince. The one who just said he wanted to be your husband you fool! He must never, ever, know….?

She raised both of her legs off of the bed and wrapped them around him. "Now. Where were we?" she purred using that ridiculously sexy look she casts with her gorgeous green eyes again. He resumed and advanced slowly. She pulled him into her with her thighs. He knew then that she really had forgotten. Maybe she was trying to remember. That she might possibly have borne a child. Perhaps that was what the brief interruption was about. She wasn't pretending. But he'd missed her so much the long months they'd been apart, he couldn't bare to resist what she was offering him now. Part of him wanted to jog her memory. A face? A name? What did she know? The other part wanted to just forget it, let it lie. Spare her the pain of remembering. He justified his position on the matter by telling himself she was already suffering. He knew at that moment the real reason he was justifying it, was for his own selfish reasons. He needed her. And the rest of it could wait. For now, she is my lady. She wants me, and she shall have what she desires. Those were his thoughts as he continued .

She raised herself slowly. Thrusting her breast toward him. He bent down to kiss her breast, and licked her nipple. She arched her back and moaned. He moved inside of her, slowly. She breathed in a sigh, then began to moan softly "Mmm Sheriff…..take me."

The Sheriff truly believed his lady was the most passionate woman in all of England.


	11. Chapter 11

I'm home. I've finally come home, she thought, as she dug her nails into his skin in a fevered moment of frenzied desire. Just like in dreams, he fulfilled her every need. The man she always knew had to be waiting for her. Nothing could ever match this.

Later, when the Sheriff thought about it again, he knew she couldn't remember much. Maybe that was best.

Off a great distance to the North, a misty fog had settled over the hill near the Castle. He'd just come in from the dampness. He lifted the hood off of his face as he leaned over the basin on the washstand. He could see his hideous reflection in the water. His chain dangled into the basin obstructing his vision, so he removed it. The baby cried in the corner of the room in a cradle. He turned around.

"Ha! You think he'll help you child? Look what he did to me!" he remembered that day crouched to the ground on the scaffold, when the flaming arrow was shot.

"You think this is hell, child?" He said as he opened his arms wide. "I learned from the best, kid."

He once made a deal with him. He remembered being up close to his face once before. Now he had the cursed face of the Sheriff's infant as a daily reminder. He loathed having him here with him, but relished the idea of the one thousand gold pieces the Sheriff would supposedly bring him, though he highly doubted it. He went back to the washstand and reached in the basin to splash water on his face. He dried it gently, then began to chuckle. "The Sheriff of Nottingham. A father..." he said "Now - that's a good one!" He laughed.

He sat down on a chair absently fingering the chain that lay against his chest. He began to remember, the brief time he had a family. His brother, the last remaining family he had was only with him a short time before the Good Sheriff put an end to that too. And after the lynching of his brother and friends. He - the one who called himself the Fallen Knight, seeing no reason to remain in Nottingham County, began a journey that took him to the North. A wanderer. A Rebel. An Outlaw. Having nothing but the clothes on his back, a horse he inherited from his brother, and the chain around his neck from his father he was moving on. Though he would've liked to have stayed for the pleasure of paying a surprise visit to the Sheriff, and killing him. Revenge for the loss of his family. His father. His brother. His face. His dreams. He had already the potential for mixing with trouble before things came to a head three years ago. He lost all sense of himself completely and began a downward spiral that started him reaching new depths in self destruction, and self loathing.

Something had happened to the Fallen Knight, completely snapped inside of his brain. He was always rather lost and reclusive, and then his brother did much to anchor him. He filled the void which had been missing much of his life. It was all lost when his brother died at the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. There were rumours circulating that the Sheriff had changed a great deal since then. Especially since last autumn. He could've cared less. No amount of redemption on the part of the Sheriff would ever begin to make up for his sins and betrayal against him. The Good Sheriff of Nottingham would never be forgiven. Nothing the man could ever do, no words uttered past his lips would ever begin to ease his pain. Begin to quiet the rage. Or restore him at all to any semblance of the troubled but promising man he used to be. The handsome young man he once was.

Those days were gone. Dead. Like his brother. His father. His memories. Dead. Like all things good. And so, he lost everything, including any last remaining shred of human decency or compassion. Just about every facet of his former self was gone. Dead. Replaced by another so hideously unlike the man he used to be. The man who once made a deal with the Sheriff three years ago. Who watched in horror when the flaming arrow shot his way, soaring through the air, and knowing what the plan was. He was trapped. Tied down with nothing to do but wait helplessly for impact. His brother managed to come to his rescue, just not in time to save his face. And then, hours later...being told his brother had been killed. Stabbed with a sword by the ruthless tyrant, the Sheriff of Nottingham.

And that's when everything came crashing down all around him. When he realized he was infinitely alone. The Sheriff insured that, when his face became torched. Now he'd never be able to find himself a wife. He began to drown his troubles in anything that would soothe the pain quickly. He soon discovered that two large goblets of wine taken quickly in succession did much to quiet his thoughts. A third to follow would silence them completely, and resulted in blissful oblivion. Thus began his dependency. His collapse into self destruction.

He started by taking the Sheriffs two maidens, the ladies in waiting at Nottingham Castle. He knew of two of them who stayed there. Employed by the Good Sheriff to service his needs. That is where the Fallen Knight chose to start. Having been in the Castle before he knew the lay of the area and how to find them. He'd seen them before. After spending a tedious time pretending to charm them, he poisoned them. He carried the maidens off one by one and hid them for a time. They were the first to go. He'd heard the Sheriff was confused as to what had happened to his consorts, yet he didn't bother to initiate a search for them. And that just made the Fallen Knight more infuriated. Fueled him to continue.

Changed? The Fallen Knight had a good deal of difficulty believing a man like that could possibly be changed. And yet, he was proof. He too was changed, but his metamorphosis was the reverse version of the caterpillar to the butterfly. Unlike the Sheriff of Nottingham, who did change for the better and sought a better purpose in life, he was going in the opposite direction. And his mind was too completely clouded over with festering murderous rage to ever begin to identify it. His metamorphosis was complete. From somewhat noble, to finding a permanent residence on the dark side. And since he had nobody to challenge him about it, he quite enjoyed it.

The Fallen Knight, not satisfied when he touched his face, walked back over to the washstand in a obsessive ritual to finish washing what was left of his face. Then he placed the hood back over his head to cover it. He turned towards the cradle where the infant lay.

"Right. The Sheriff of Nottingham come for you? Are you jesting? He'll never come for you. He'd no more want you that I do! Your father has a black heart. Just like me. Sorry kid."

He thought himself invincible. A man whom he once feared - he now challenged, and took pleasure in taunting him. As the years unfolded since that day, he kept descending deeper and deeper into a dark abyss. With absence of all remaining discerning human qualities. With nobody left in the entire world to begin to care about, he didn't care. He cared for nobody. He cared not for himself. It didn't matter, and that's what made his plot for revenge all the sweeter. With the absence of fear - anything is possible. He believed it, and he lived on it.

He sat in a corner drinking his wine. One goblet after the other in his usual fashion, and continued to plot various ways of further annoying the Good Sheriff of Nottingham.

The Sheriff may have changed for the better, yet the shrewd, calculating man that everyone thought dead still hovered just below the surface. The Fallen Knight and his threats did nothing to instill fear into the Sheriff of Nottingham.

The Sheriff sat by the window at dawn gazing out into the distance. He held the scroll that the boy messenger hand delivered the day before in his fist. He crumpled the scroll into a ball and threw it to the far side of the room.

"Get ready." He spoke as if he were speaking to the outlaw. Then the remnants of the old Sheriff of Nottingham began to shine through.

"You are so. Very. Dead." he dragged the words out slowly in a hiss, the same way he planned to kill him.


	12. Chapter 12

She found her way through the Castle, and managed to get outside. After winding through some pathways she found the garden again. Rosebuds had just formed, and dew clung to them in the cool of dawn. She paused a moment to remember. She was remembering when she first spoke to her dark prince. And everything about that moment in time. She gazed at hills in the distance. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. Birds flew overhead. She was just reaching out to touch one of the roses when suddenly she couldn't help but harbour a strange and eerie feeling she was being watched.

She turned around. A woman stood a few feet away in the distance by the the stone wall of the Castle. Slender, with pale skin, fiery curly tresses, and pale blue eyes. She was wearing a light green gown.

"For a woman capable of stealing the heart of the ever unavailable Sheriff of Nottingham, you sure could've fooled me." The woman shrugged as she stepped closer to look at her.

"I beg your pardon, Madam?" Lady Rhiannon asked, taken by surprise.

"You're either very brave, or incredibly stupid." The woman answered evasively.

"Whatever do you mean? And who are you anyway? I don't believe we've met."

"Lady Meridwyn. Guy Gisborne's Lady." She paused. "I once was entirely smitten with your Sheriff milady. He was too damn hard to please. Nobody could please him." She said as she moved in closer. She stood before Lady Rhiannon and met her eyes. She really is beautiful, Meridwyn thought.

Rhiannon stood looking at her trying to follow her words but was already lost.

"Excuse me….whom exactly is Guy Gisborne then?" she asked.

"Guy Gisborne is the Sheriff's deputy. He is also the only family your man has. They are cousins. A little more like brothers I've found though." She said as she twisted some strands of her silky hair between her fingers. The curly red tendrils danced with light.

"I see. I've yet to meet this Gisborne." Rhiannon replied.

"He's on a mission, far to the North. I do believe the Sheriff plans to join him again soon. They are trying to find someone. A very bad man." She coughed. "Anyway, I was staying in my lover's quarters one night last autumn. I came out here in the dark of night. I saw you then." She said matter of factly as she cast her eyes downward.

"You….what?" Rhiannon said incredulous.

"I saw what happened."

Rhiannon's eyes flew wide open. She squinted as she looked at Lady Meridwyn and shook her head. "I don't understand….." she replied, her voice trailing off.

"I was frightened. He had approached me once too, but I managed to flee. I never told Guy. Never gave it another thought, until that night. I stood frozen in place. I couldn't move. Couldn't scream. And that's why I find it surprising to see you revisiting this place. The very place he took you." She said with a shudder. She tried to disguise, and it was subtle, but Rhiannon saw it notwithstanding.

She moved to change to topic of discussion. Before she lost her senses again. "This was also the very place the Sheriff first kissed me." Lady Rhiannon said. "And that is the reason I chose to come out here just now."

"How ever did you get away?" Meridwyn asked.

"I don't remember." Rhiannon replied as she moved to seat herself on a nearby stone bench. She was suddenly feeling light headed. Lady Meridwyn joined her.

"I remember laying on the bed, exhausted and frantic about something. I don't know what exactly about now. Then I felt very sick. A strange feeling came over me. Heat. A Rush all through my body. It made me frightened. I was very weak, and I thought I was dying. Soon everything went black and I thought I was dead. Then the next thing I knew, I awoke and my Lord was holding me." She said. "I still can't believe it, how he found me." She smiled wistfully.

"So romantic. You better hang on to that memory, honey. He's not usually so free with his time." Meridwyn replied.

"He's been making time for me." Rhiannon was quick to add.

"Yes? Indeed. But hear my words, honey. If I were you, I'd cease wandering around on my own until our men catch that monster."

"Our men?"

"Yes. My lover is a great distance away. He's on a mission to find him."

"But you said - Our Men." Rhiannon pointed out.

"When you returned to this Castle, the Sheriff came to see me with a message from Guy. He told me that once you were restored, he would return and rejoin my man. You're staying here with me in this Castle. We'll have plenty of guards to protect us. We'll keep their beds occupied but you didn't hear that from me." She winked.

"He's leaving?..." she said softly, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"He must milady Rhiannon. They will return. They always do. This is how it must be when you are the lady to the most important man about town. God knows I know the waiting is insufferable at times, but it needs to be this way." She sighed.

"You said he approached you once before as well?" Lady Rhiannon recalled as she asked Lady Meridwyn.

"Yes. One day when I was walking here to meet my lover. He came behind me and took me by surprise. I kicked him, and knocked him falling. Then I just ran as fast as I could." Meridwyn shuddered.

"Why didn't you tell him? Gisborne." Rhiannon asked.

"I didn't want to give him one more thing to worry about. You don't want to complain too much to either one of them, Guy or your Sheriff. They have a good deal of responsibility. A Lady to the Deputy or the Sheriff of Nottingham needs to be somewhat self sufficient."

"I think we already were before we met them." Rhiannon said. "Maybe that's why they chose us." She smiled.

Later, Rhiannon found her lover in the room outside of his private chambers. She stopped in the doorway a moment to look at him. Putting off what she now knew he'd tell her. He heard her approach and turned toward the door.

"My Lady." He said as he stood and walked towards her. She smiled and advanced toward him.

"I think you have something to tell me." She said

"It can wait. Are you well?" He asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Just a little light headed. I'm fine, my Lord." She smiled, then moved to seat herself on the velvet couch. He went to her and knelt before her.

"My Lady. You're the air I breathe. It brings me joy to see you awake. I'm going to have to go back though. Just for awhile. I'd like you to stay here. I've arranged for care, protection, and company for you."

"If that is your wish, I think that will be fine." She said, her voice trailing off. She looked at him. "It's okay my Lord. I know you have responsibilities. I'll never ask you to cast them aside for my sake." She said as she reached across to touch his face.

"I know my Love." He said as he leaned in to kiss her. "I'm staying another day. I can't bear to leave you now. I've waited so long for you to awaken."

"Tomorrow then?" she asked.

"Yes, my Lady. But for now, this day is ours." He smiled. She leaned forward and rested against his chest, and held him. She never wanted to let him go. So this is romance, she thought. I'm living in a fairy tale. He smelled so incredibly masculine to her, so magnetic. She was drawn into him. She could hear his heartbeat, feel his warmth, his energy. She wished she could hold onto it forever.

"My Lord, whatever is your wish to do this day, I'll agree to whatever it is. I'm pleased you're remaining here a little longer."

"I think we should just have a quiet day, my Lady. You look rather pale again. It doesn't matter. I could be in hell with you, but as long as you were by my side, we could be anywhere. I would be content." He said softly as he stroked her hair.

She breathed in his scent. He kept stroking her. Her hair, the back of her neck. She closed her eyes. It was dark again. She felt a chill.

For a moment, there in a flash of memory, she thought she felt a hand clasping around her throat, then releasing. The faint voice of a whisper…. "Don't expect to live much longer, after it is….." what was the rest? She saw the scene unfolding in her mind's eye, yet she lost the rest of the phrase. And then, another flash.

"Are you obtuse as well?" echoing, trailing in the distance.

"Thanks wench – Now I can get me some gold….." she shook her head. She was no longer relaxed, instead she was guarded.

The Sheriff sensed it, could feel her stiffen against him as he held her. He pulled back.

"My Lady? Are you quite alright?" he said as he looked into her eyes. His eyes were pleading with her to look at him. Look into my eyes, he willed.

She could still hear it echoing, louder, as if the memory was forming into the present.

"Are you obtuse as well? Don't expect to live much longer…." The voice, the menacing whisper trailed off into the distance again.

She was staring. He didn't know at what. She was distant. Lost in some faraway place in time. A look on her face like she might be trying to remember an event, something.

"My Lady." He said softly. "What is it you remember?" he gently prodded.

"What?" she shook her head and refocused in a quicker response than the past couple of times she went off into a different zone. "Oh. No my Lord. I was just feeling a little…." She started to head back into the zone when he brought her back to reality.

"Perhaps you should lie down my Lady?"

"No!" her answer left little room for negotiation.

"But, my Lady?..." he was cut off.

"How many weeks have I been lying down? No. This is our last day together until we don't know when. And…." She looked at him and smiled "My Sweet Prince." She whispered "I don't want to miss a thing."

"I swear you are my angel. My beautiful Lady Rhiannon." He said as he pulled her close to him.


	13. Chapter 13

The following morning the Sheriff was riding back towards the north of the country, the same route he took home recently, with a few of his men and Officer Curran. He could not linger saying goodbye to Lady Rhiannon. He was loathed to leave her but he knew he must. By staying with her in Nottingham the extra day he decided to make up some time in his travels. It was worth it. Now all he could do was focus on the task at hand.

The weather was fair though a fog had settled in the early morning light. As the scenery moved past him and he picked up the pace, his thoughts raced like the scenery flying past him in a blur. Fragmented images appearing in flashes of 3D memory. The day he saw Rhiannon, the kiss in the rain, the sultry way she looked at him with her light green eyes. Her touch. He was suddenly lost in them. He knew this journey well, could ride it in the dark with a blindfold. It worked in his favour at the moment, because he was at ease to let his mind wander briefly. Memories flooded in flashes of images that seemed near and felt real.

She was real. Everything about her was more real to him than any other woman he'd ever known. She was meant for him. He knew it, could feel it. And though he'd never entertained the notion of fatherhood, he was willing to assume the responsibility. Whatever it took. He was suddenly protective of them both. And wanted them to be near him. He could never leave her now. Lady Rhiannon was utter perfection. Sometimes he felt as if she'd been created just for him. They had only met months prior to now, yet she knew him better than anyone in some ways. Knew exactly how to handle him. He was completely amazed. She always seemed to know the right things to say to him. The right things to do to him. He shivered thinking of it and smiled to himself. It was a shame there was so much distance yet to cover. He was going to drive himself mad thinking of her. Knowing he would have to wait to see her again, and hold her close to him.

For now there was the matter at hand. Rescue the child. Then mercilessly kill the loathsome insect. With so much distance yet to cover, time could be better spent contemplating the various means of torture for the Fallen Knight.

By nightfall they'd covered a great distance. The Sheriff and his men chose a secluded place out of the way to camp for the night.

The Fallen Knight had ventured outside in back of the abandoned castle towards the well to gather water. The baby was asleep inside the castle. In some ways he wish he hadn't left the maiden behind waiting in the prison cell. If he had kept her he could've used her to sustain the infant with her milk. Instead he now had an extra cursed mouth to feed until the Sheriff arrived with the gold.

He lifted the wooden bucket full of water and started back towards the castle. There was a wind that kicked up, causing his hood to lash about his neck.

It's too simple, he thought. I've made this entirely too simple. Deciding then the plan wasn't good enough to further taunt the Sheriff, he went inside to mull things over as he set about concocting a thin gruel to feed the infant.

He grabbed some dry ingredients from a shelf, mixed them together and measured some of the water and some goats milk in a cast iron cauldron. The Sheriff would be on his way to him now. If he valued the life of his child, which the Fallen Knight highly doubted, then he would be en route. It's still too easy. The Fallen Knight wasn't finished with the Sheriff. This would not conclude what he had in mind for him. He had a number of ideas floating in his head for the Sheriff but he needed some of it to come together independent of his doing first, with a little of the Sheriff's cooperation. He considered all of them. He decided to wait. Wait on the Sheriff. He'd take his gold, that would not change. But whether or not he'd give the child back right then, he still was undecided. He wanted the Sheriff to suffer as much as possible before he exacted the revenge due to him, for killing his brother, and his father.

He was certain he knew what happened, after he spotted from a distance the lady running mad past the clearing from where their tents were set up. The good Sheriff found his maid, and most likely would take her back to Nottingham. The man was too predictable. He knew the Sheriff well enough to know the man had never been in love. He could also tell how much the Sheriff valued the Nottingham maid. It was almost humourous. That I would wait to seek my revenge on him now….when he finally has a woman he loves. This is too perfectly timed! He thought. It was poetic justice. Then it came to him.

"That's it!" he exclaimed out loud. He was so amused with himself, for the plan that had just taken form in a flash, he began to laugh. He started humming to himself and dancing as he stirred the thin gruel in the cauldron over the open fire. He tested it, then spooned a little into a stoneware bowl, and took it over to the baby.

"Hey kid." The Fallen Angel spoke. The baby was alert and looking at him.

"Your black hearted father, by my calculations, is on his way. But I have a surprise in store for him." He began to chortle. "Oh yes, we're going to have a merry time with this!"

Lady Rhiannon was sitting on a chair in the Sheriff's private chambers absently brushing her hair, and fighting melancholy as she thought of her dark prince. She missed him already, but knew his task was important. Only because Meridwyn had briefly confided what the task was. If he was setting about to make the country a little safer by catching a 'very bad man', then so be it.

There was a light tapping on her door. She invited her guest to enter. Meridwyn opened the door and came toward her smiling.

"Milady, I thought you might enjoy some company." She said as she stepped toward her and clasped her hands. Rhiannon smiled back, and squeezed her palms in return.

"How do you do it? How do you keep yourself from running mad the times you're apart?"

"It's difficult but somehow you grow accustomed to it. You find other things to occupy your mind. And if you receive word from a messenger he's on his way back to you, then you can allow yourself to think of him. That's what I do." Meridwyn replied as she sat on the bed. Rhiannon joined her. Meridwyn added "Because I like to be ready."

"Ready?" Rhiannon asked slightly perplexed.

"Yes. Sometimes Guy is tired from his travels. However, most of the time – he's insatiable. You know….." Meridwyn blushed slightly. "That first night after being apart for so long."

"Oh" Rhiannon felt her cheeks turn hot, and cupped her palm over her mouth in astonishment. After a moment she added thoughtfully "I wonder what my man will be like when he returns?"

"I should say his senses will awaken when he sees you, my dear. He'll no doubt be insatiable, just like Guy!" A beat "He holds you very dear. He loves you, I can sense it."

"That's what he told me. I have no reason to believe his words were not genuine." Rhiannon commented.

"I don't think anyone has ever known him to love a maid."

"Yes, he said that too."

"He told you?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes. He did."

"Oh my dear, he does love you. I believe you've had much to do with the changes in our Sheriff of Nottingham. He was on his way before met you. But you! Why, you single handedly changed him!" she exclaimed.

"Well I don't really know about that…" Rhiannon said as she arose from the bed and headed towards the window looking into the distance. How she missed her dark prince. She wondered where he was now?

"You had a large part in it." Meridwyn offered as she got up to join Rhiannon. They stood together by the window, and spotted some guards below. A chill breeze came though. Both women shuddered. Meridwyn turned towards Rhiannon. Changing the topic she began "Rhiannon, do you ever feel like….well, that you're being watched?"

"Well yes. All of the time." Rhiannon answered. "You know - Mortianna the witch, Lady Margaret, the Scribe, the Guards…." She was cut off.

"No. I don't mean by people your Sheriff trusts and assigned to watch over you. I mean – watched by a stranger spying on you. Yet, you cannot see him."

"That sounds frighteningly ominous." Rhiannon remarked.

"Sometimes I do. I go looking, but find no one. Maybe I'm imagining it. Or maybe…"

"Maybe you're simply longing for Gisborne." Rhiannon attempted to reassure her.

"Perhaps milady." She agreed. Meridwyn realized it was best to discontinue this line of discussion. Lady Rhiannon had already endured quite an ordeal. Notwithstanding, Meridwyn couldn't shake a disturbing sense of foreboding. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she felt it. She felt the danger was directed towards her alone, and not her friend. She didn't want to further worry Rhiannon so she let it go. Yet this frightened her. This sense that a malevolent force, someone with ill intentions was lurking. Maybe they weren't watching her yet, maybe this was a glimpse into what was yet to take place. She shuddered, and attempted to conceal it by drawing her cape about her. Rhiannon was perceptive.

"Meridwyn, you must make a vow you will tell someone about your escape from that monster. What about one of the Guards?"

Meridwyn looked up, clearly shaken, yet determined. "Our lovers will capture him. I shall be fine." she was absolute.

"Still, I should feel better knowing you may be granted additional surveillance."

"Only if they'd do the same for you, my dear." Meridwyn replied as she gazed out of the window and looked to the distance. "Because you see, we both escaped." She said absently. In a moment she knew. She looked towards Rhiannon. Suddenly they realized the enormity of the truth that Meridwyn had just spoke. They locked eyes. Mirror images of wide open clarity and fear. They clasped hands, then embraced briefly. Yet they didn't exchange another word about it for quite some time.

Lady Margaret let herself into the den outside of the Sheriff's private chambers. She had come to check on Lady Rhiannon, not expecting to find her here. As of late she'd been disobeying Lady Margaret's instructions. At the last minute she decided to seek out Mortianna's recommendations in consult over the continuing plan for recuperation before looking to see if the Lady was resting as per instructions in the Sheriff's private chambers. She took the other door that lead down towards Mortianna's lair. She'd never ventured there before and opened the door with trepidation. She partly closed it and headed down the depths of the stone staircase. She was startled when the witch appeared midway on the circular staircase.

"Milady, I am honoured you came. Surprised somewhat, but flattered all the same." The witch remarked.

"I came to seek your opinion." Lady Margaret began.

"What troubles you Lady Margaret?" Mortianna asked.

"The lady is disregarding my instructions for rest. She really should be resting. She's lost a good deal of blood. I worry the infection may return."

"Her mind is weaker than her body, Lady Margaret. The torment must have caused her to erase everything. Even the Sheriff's baby." Mortianna confided.

"I can't imagine the tribulations she endured. I don't believe she's completely out of danger. I'd prefer her take more time to rest." Lady Margaret suggested. "But how? She will not listen!" They heard a noise above them just then, and paused to look towards the doorway leading to the Sheriff's den a moment. Then it was gone.

Mortianna continued their discussion. "My Lord did ask we take utmost care of her." She thought a moment. " I have some herbs at my disposal that work well to relax the body, without putting one to sleep. That way she'll at least be less inclined to venture far off or engage in harmful activities. I make a tea with it."

"Perhaps. But we mustn't overdo it. I want her to quiet her activities, not fall into a deep sleep again."

Mortianna nodded.

"Madam, one more thing." Lady Margaret said quietly

"Yes Lady Margaret, what is it?"

"Why do you suppose Lady Rhiannon does not remember the baby? I cannot fathom why not. What would cause a maid not to remember delivering a child in a prison cell?"

"You just answered the question you posed." Mortianna said. "It is inside those walls where the Lady Nottingham hides her secret. She does not wish to remember that time. Or anything associated with it."

"Lady Nottingham. That's interesting. Not the maid of Nottingham." Lady Margaret pondered.

"I have no doubt my Lady, that my Lord Sheriff will ask for her hand, if he hasn't done so already. He is very much in love with her, and true to her."

Lady Meridwyn left the Sheriff's chambers where her friend, Lady Rhiannon was recuperating. She was planning to take a stroll in the courtyard. She thought she heard voices and stopped to turn towards them. The other oak door in the den was ajar. She crept slowly toward it, and moved in close to the open door to listen. It was somewhat difficult to make out each word. It sounded like Mortianna and Lady Margaret.

"……she's lost a good deal of blood. I worry……..may return."

Then Mortianna's voice " The torment must have caused her to erase everything. Even the Sheriff's….."

Then she heard the voice of Lady Margaret again. " I can't imagine…..she endured…..out of danger…..She will not listen!"

Just then Meridwyn shifted and caused a creaking noise with the door. She paused, nearly holding her breath. Listening for the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs. Instead the women resumed their conversation, and Meridwyn used the opportunity to make a quiet exit.

Outside the door of the quarters leading into the private chambers she felt that familiar chill again. Her fears were confirmed. She truly hoped the guards of Nottingham Castle would be enough to protect she and Lady Rhiannon from the evil man whom once tried to capture her.


	14. Chapter 15

The Sheriff cried out, enraged. He threw the rock, and kicked the scarecrow until it was nothing but a mass of hay and rags at his feet.

"You think you'll wear me out you murderous insect?!" He yelled into the night. "You shall not have her! You will not get to her before I. I swear it – on my mother's grave!"

He put the scroll in his pocket, mounted the horse than kicked it into a gallop. He needed to get back to Nottingham. Oh…this man was worse than Locksley ever was! At least then he didn't have to travel all over England and back again before he had the pleasure of ending that tedious chapter. He was exhausted but he had to get back there fast. The Fallen Knight must have started on his way there days ago! The child! He needed to find Guy and his men first, to search for the child. This matter was advancing rapidly beyond his realm. He would ask Guy to speak to the Sheriff of this county for assistance. They could look for the child, and he could get back to Lady Rhiannon. In the meantime, he would try to find a page to get a message to her while he looked for Guy. When this is over, he thought, when I finally get my hands on him…..I'm going to drag his death out as long as my strength will allow it!

He was so fatigued it was difficult at times to stay focused. Despite that he pressed onwards, flying through the night under a starry sky, the horse's mane and tail dancing in the pale moonlight.

After a few hours, he was approaching a small group of men in the distance advancing toward him on horses. As he drew closer to them he smiled. He was relieved. He dismounted and started towards them.

"Cousin! You've returned!" Guy shouted as he recognized him, dismounting his horse and walking towards him.

The Sheriff shook his hand. "Guy."

"How is she, cousin? Your lady?"

"She's doing better, thanks for asking."

"And mine? How is my lady, cousin?"

"Meridwyn is well, cousin. She and Lady Rhiannon have become friends!" he smiled.

"How convenient for us!"

"Yes, especially since my lady will be a member of our family. Whenever I can get back to her, which needs to be soon."

"You've asked her to marry you?" Guy asked.

"Yes. Now, I'll tell you about it sometime. But, for now, cousin I need your help. I need to get back. She's in danger. Again." He stopped to get his breath and a drink of water from his canteen.

"I don't understand."

"You never found the insect I take it?"

"We searched everywhere, cousin. We left that castle after a few days, broke into groups to continue the search. He's remained elusive. Of course, if we knew what we were looking for. All we know is a suspicious man. Could be anyone."

"Well not anymore." The Sheriff huffed.

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone. They both are!" He said as he kicked a nearby tree, then punched it causing his knuckles to begin to bleed.

"Cousin! Restrain yourself. What are you saying? There's two of them now?" He asked.

"Long story cousin. My Lady it turns out, gave birth to a child while held prisoner by that bastard. I have a child, cousin. That's why he kept her alive! I received his ransom demands a fortnight ago!"

Guy was visibly astonished. So was Duke Farnsworth and the other six men.

The Sheriff pulled the scroll from his pocket and handed it to him.

"A message, cousin. From him. Read."

Guy paused to look at the document. He looked up at the Sheriff.

"He must know Nottingham! Why does he keep going back there, George!" Guy exclaimed.

"I swear I know this man, Guy. I do not know how, but I have a strong hunch about it. It sends a chill down my spine I'll tell you that!" he spat as he turned on his heel to head back towards his horse.

"Wait! Put it together, cousin. What did he say in the other document? And he refers to Catherine and Hecate! That's going back a few years. He knew them! Yes, I'd wager he knew them before he killed them! How long ago was that?" Guy pondered.

"I don't know." The Sheriff muttered. "It's been a few years. They must have been the first victims!"

"And what did he mean – his face? Who was his brother? His lover for that matter? Now he gives us some clues!"

"I don't know. I don't have time to solve the mystery, Guy! I have to get back to my lady. She's in danger. He's headed there for her now!"

"You want me and the rest to stay and search for the infant?" Guy asked him.

The Sheriff returned his gaze. He realized Guy had been away from home for quite some time. Much longer than he. It must be difficult to be gone so long from the woman you love.

"No. I want you to return with me. If Meridwyn is with Rhiannon, she's in danger too." He looked to Duke Farnsworth and the other six men gathered around them.

"We shall remain here to seek out the child, my Lord Sheriff. Tell me what you know...an approximate age of the child would be useful."

The Sheriff went to him to consult with Duke Farnsworth and together they quickly came up with a plan. Then, the Sheriff and his cousin started on their way.

"We must rest a time, cousin, before you venture further. No doubt you've not stopped long enough for adequate rest since you left Nottingham." Guy suggested tentatively.

"I'll rest when I'm holding her in my arms, that bastard dead!"

"She will be your wife?" His cousin was clever to change the topic of discussion. The Sheriff was happy to oblige.

"Yes. She accepted my proposal." The Sheriff smiled. He looked at Guy then, riding alongside him. "Have you asked Meridwyn? You never did tell me about it."

Guy coughed. "No."

"What's that you say?"

"Not yet I haven't. I plan to however. Soon. Very soon. Do you think she'll have me?"

"She gave up me for you!" the Sheriff teased. "She adores you. Of course she will."

As they continued to ride over treacherous terrain and covering a good deal of distance, Guy observed that the Sheriff was fading. But he knew his cousin. No one could ever coax the Sheriff into anything. It had to be his call when he decided to yield to his fatigue. So, instead, he started conversation again when the ground being covered demanded a slower pace. He pulled his horse beside him once their pathway widened.

"I'm pleased to hear that Lady Rhiannon is much improved, cousin."

"Yes. You've no idea how it pleased me to see her awakened from that interminable slumber!" The Sheriff agreed.

"She is fine now though? No long term ill effects?"

"She was weakened when I left." He paused "Well, not too weakened." He winked. "However, it will be a little while before she will be able to endure anything strenuous. I've left strict instructions for all assigned to her care. Lady Margaret and Mortianna are to see to it that she is getting adequate rest."

"Indeed, cousin." Guy added: "I'm also pleased to know that your lady and mine are getting on rather well!"

"Yes. I'm glad of it too. Since neither you nor I have other family, at least we don't have to concern ourselves with that. It would be unfortunate if they disliked each other."

As they continued on, the Sheriff found it difficult at times to focus, but he kept this to himself. He loathed it whenever he felt weakened.

"Lady Rhiannon must be beside herself with worry for your infant." Guy mused.

"Alas, cousin – she does not remember the child. I'm waiting for the right time to mention it."

"What?!"

"You heard me."

"That seems impossible! How can she…." He was cut off.

"It's not! It's…." his words trailed off as he nodded off briefly.

"Cousin! Watch out!" Guy called as the Sheriff's horse was lead astray, leading him too close between some trees.

"Oh!...Yes. Guy, perhaps you were right. Maybe I should rest a time, just briefly. For a moment." He said as he steered the horse in the right direction.

"There." Guy pointed "Ahead, cousin. There's a spot we can set up our tents for the night."

They slowed their horses, then found some trees nearby to secure them.

"Why must we require sleep, cousin? Sometimes I am annoyed to be so tired. There's much to be done, too much ground left to cover!" The Sheriff remarked as they completed the tasks of establishing camp.

"We'll make it, cousin." Guy reassured. "The guards are there to protect her. The Scribe is looking out for her. Margaret and Mortianna are caring for her. She is safe, cousin."

Even though he was standing upright, his head nodded again. He jerked it upwards and looked at Guy.

"Yes." He said as he held open the flap to his tent. "She's safe. Rhiannon is safe. Meridwyn is safe as well."

"Everything's fine, cousin. We shall continue on in the morning."

"Yes." The Sheriff repeated again, absently as he entered the tent. "Safe."

There is was again. That creaking noise! Tonight, she was finding it difficult to sleep. Meridwyn tossed and turned in her bed. Clutching an overstuffed silk covered pillow to her, she held onto it fast, wishing it to be Guy. For some reason this night she was unsettled. She kept hearing strange sounds in the castle. Sounds she'd never heard before. In the stillness of the dead of night, she also thought she was occasionally seeing shadows moving. And then, the odd echoes, and whooshing sounds. She'd never paid attention to any of this before. She'd never noticed.

But now, her senses were heightened. Maybe because it had been several weeks since she'd been in the protective company of her lover. Maybe the conversation she'd overheard between Lady Margaret and Mortianna regarding Rhiannon. Maybe it was the conversation she had with Rhiannon explaining details of her near capture by the murderous outlaw her lover and the Sheriff were at this moment seeking to capture. And her sense of late, of the feeling of being watched. She had a great deal on her mind, thoughts racing and oft times scattered. Sometimes now, not making sense. Alone in the dark, for some reason for one of the first times in her life, she was frightened. In the company of her thoughts she was starting to understand Rhiannon. Now she regretted her hasty response when her friend made what she regarded an elaborate plan suggestion for a lengthy journey. Now, she wasn't so sure that Rhiannon wasn't on to something? She went back to the strange perception she'd had for some time, a feeling of being watched. Some sense of malevolence crouching upon her.

She sat up in her bed abruptly, tightly holding her silken pillow to her chest. "Who's to say he won't find his way back here?" she muttered softly. "Before Guy and the Sheriff reach him! This is ludicrous!" she shuddered.

She decided that sitting around Nottingham Castle, idly chatting about silly things wouldn't do. No doubt, eventually being coaxed into loathsome needlepoint and other sewing activities would be the next plan by the elder ladies for she and Rhiannon. The longer their lovers stayed away, surely they'd go mad. Well, she would not endure it. She knew that Rhiannon wouldn't endure it either. No. Rhiannon had a point. They needed to leave this place, and search for their men. Then, they could finally be at ease. She would speak to Lady Rhiannon about it the next day. The sooner they planned an escape, the better.

That morning, Mortianna entered the Sheriff's private chambers to offer the Lady Rhiannon her special blend tea to relax her, just as she had previously discussed with Lady Margaret, the Midwife.

"Good morning, my Lady." Mortianna said.

Rhiannon was already dressed for the day and fashioning her hair with decorative pins. "Yes, Mortianna. Good Day. I wasn't expecting to see you." Rhiannon remarked.

"I've brought you a cup of tea, my dear. I thought perhaps you may find it soothing." Mortianna said.

"Thank you." She replied as she took the cup and began to sip the warm liquid.

"You will rest a bit today, my Lady?" Mortianna pryed.

"Yes, of course. I do enjoy a stroll in the garden however."

"As long as you keep it brief. Rest is good for restoring the body back to health. You shall need it, when he returns." She hinted.

"Yes." Rhiannon agreed.

Mortianna left and Rhiannon sat near the window drinking her tea. She was beginning to relax a little. More settled than she'd been in days. Her eyes were drawn to the view from the window. It was facing in a northward direction. Close enough in direction that she pictured her dark prince in the distance. She was finding the wait difficult. Especially when left to measure the time alone. She hoped that he was safe.

She sipped the tea, and was reminded of the times she waited in her own home, years ago, for her brothers to return to her. Alas, they never did. She shuddered. She tried to think of other things. She didn't want to imagine the worst possible scenario. She couldn't endure such loss. Her father and brothers loss was difficult enough to manage. Not the loss of…. "No. Stop it at once!" she said aloud.

She stood and felt slightly lightheaded, then chose to sit on the bed. Within moments she lay back on top of it and settled on the pillows pulling a coverlet up to her waist. Perhaps just a little rest, she thought…..


	15. Chapter 14

Miles away to the north, the Sheriff was slowing his horse in the lashing rain and wind to stop and rest. Quickly, he secured the horse, then unpacked a large sack strapped to the horse. He set about establishing camp, securing the tent, then entering inside where he could get warm and dry.

Once inside he sat down and poured himself some brandy and listened to the rain tapping on the canvas. It reminded him of the first night he bedded his lady Rhiannon. He closed his eyes. He could suddenly almost smell her dampened hair as he did when he was kissing her, while her still moist naked skin was pressing next to him, urging him. If only his times with her weren't incessantly cut too short because of the Fallen Knight. Every blessed time! The rain was lashing harder on the tent. He pulled his cloak closer about him. The sound of the rain falling harder on the tent and the objects around it were creating a rhythmic tempo. It lured his thoughts into a dreamlike state, yet he felt incredibly awake. He tried to focus on his next course of action. He had chosen to obey the Fallen Knight's request to come alone. There were already men stationed in the vicinity where the abandoned castle was. Guy, Farnsworth, and the rest of his men were at this very moment searching for the murderous insect. Occasionally, the Sheriff second guessed himself and wished he'd brought a few of his men regardless of the instructions on the ransom note. He would've been able to outsmart the Fallen Knight so he would never know. At least if he'd brought them along, he have extra insurance. He was cutting his time close for meeting this man, since he'd stayed behind to comfort Rhiannon. He may not have an opportunity to meet with Guy and the others prior to the planned meeting with the Fallen Knight. In fact, the Sheriff surmised, at this rate – any meeting with Guy will be by happenstance.

He would be on his own. He would need his wit about him. He would also need to be shrewd, calculating, and resourceful.

A flash of lightening followed by a loud crack of thunder stunned him briefly. He sipped the brandy, then fell back on his cot. The light of an oil lamp cast a glow around him. His eyes grew heavy. He relaxed and imagined his green eyed lady lying naked next to him. He smiled as he drifted off in dreams, as the rain continued.

The Fallen Knight was packing some things to take with him on his journey. While he was about in the village that day, he spotted Guy Gisborne and he suspected, some of the Sheriff's men with him. He figured they had remained behind, obviously to look for him. This turn of events set his plans in motion, forcing it ahead by a few days. He'd already decided the next step, but he needed to make his exit now. It would give him more time to carry out the plan anyway. He bundled up his things, picked up the infant, and placed the child in a cart behind the horse. A storm was approaching. He kicked the horse and urged it toward the hill near to the abandoned castle. Once there, he stopped. He took a large sack to the top of the hill, opened it, and began to assemble the necessary items, even though the wind was kicking up, lashing his hood about his neck and face, he kept working. He smiled to himself as he busily created his masterpiece – a little surprise for the good Sheriff of Nottingham. He had no time to secure it, or watch it would not be disturbed in the interim until the Sheriff arrived, and he hoped Guy and the Sheriff's men wouldn't be by here before the Sheriff came to meet him, and his wee little bastard baby.

He stood back to admire his work once his task was finished. Dark shadows of a sinister smile crept across his face. He bent down to the baby who lay crying in the cart.

"There now kid…hush. You won't have to put up with me much longer. I have a long journey ahead." He rubbed his chin and looked to the south.

"You'll drive me even more insane than I already am toting you with me all the way back to Nottingham. No! It'll ruin everything!"

The baby was wailing. He had no idea why. He was losing his patience with this kid. Even though, he admitted, it was kind of slightly cute looking, despite having the Sheriff for it's father.

"Ahh…don't worry kid. I might be a mean bastard, but I'm not that bad that I'd leave you with him either! It's not your fault your father is a murderous tyrant!"

He was completing his very last task. He signed his name to the bottom of the document, rolled it, and sealed it with wax. Then he placed it in the basket, there by the large rock, on the top of the hill to greet the good Sheriff when he arrived with the gold.

"Come, baby." He said as he mounted the horse, taking one last glance toward his masterpiece. He wished he could commission a painter to paint the scene. "I must be on my way. And we must get you settled first. I do not wish to run into your black hearted father on my way back to Nottingham."

He kicked the horse to encourage it into a gallop and set off into the night through the rain that was just beginning to fall. The infant was lured to sleep in the cart behind him, wrapped in blankets. The infant looked up at clouds moving swiftly and scenes flashing past, before it's soft green eyes closed in sleep.

Days passed into night. The time was moving slowly ahead. Rhiannon sat up and prepared to wash and dress for the day. It had been nearly a fortnight since her lover left on his journey north. She was filled with trepidation for his safety the longer he was away. She knew he was strong and capable, yet she was beginning to sense danger too, just like Meridwyn. She wondered where her friend was. She opened the door and stepped into the den outside of the Sheriff's private chambers. Lady Margaret, the midwife stood abruptly from her chair to greet her, no doubt intending to block her passage exiting the Sheriff's quarters.

"My Lady, I strongly recommend you return to your chambers and rest!" Lady Margaret nearly shouted her exasperation with the girl.

"Thank you milady, I am well. I just need to take a little stroll for some air. It's rather stuffy in there." She nodded towards the chambers. Then a realization, she looked again at Lady Margaret.

"My chambers?! Is that what you said? I have my own home milady!"

"That's not what I meant." Lady Margaret stammered a reply.

Lady Rhiannon advanced slowly towards the stout woman. She raised her eyebrow as she fixed her questioning eyes upon her. "I've been wondering. Why is it a midwife was assigned by the Sheriff to look after me?" She moved in a circle slowly around Lady Margaret. "You are a midwife by profession are you not my Lady Margaret?" She finally stopped and fixed her gaze upon her, unmoving.

No wonder the Sheriff loves her so, Margaret thought. She can be a lady version of himself, when she wants to be. Her reply was swift.

"Because, my Lady Rhiannon, I'm the closest thing to a nurse this town has to offer. The Sheriff did not wish to impose his physician upon you. He thought you'd be more at ease being cared for by a knowledgeable woman, than his personal physician." She sighed. She had been anticipating this question. And she'd been instructed by the Sheriff not to mention the baby. Though, personally, she thought it worse to prolong the inevitable. She was going to have to know sometime!

"Oh." She said. "I am going to take a short stroll dear lady, then I will return to rest. Surely you understand my need for space? I was indeed held captive after all." She demurred.

Lady Margaret shook her head. She lacked the energy to argue. She was beginning to understand the mystery of how it was that Lady Rhiannon had survived her ordeal. "All right, fine. Be sure to keep it brief. I have strict instructions from the Sheriff to ensure that you rest and recover. It's time you begin to comply!"

"Thank you, my Lady Margaret." Rhiannon smiled before heading through the door. She started slowly down the circular stairs, then when out of view, she quickened her steps.

She found her friend strolling in the gardens.

"Oh! That woman! The both of them! Oh!" she cried out as she stomped her foot, shouting in frustration.

"What is the matter, Rhiannon?" Meridwyn came forward, puzzled.

"Those two women – Margaret and Mortianna! Don't they understand? I live alone. I need space! I was held prisoner for God sakes! Let me out of that room. Oh! They will not relent…it's loathsome!"

"Well you're here now. Come, a walk will help to clear your mind." She lead her down a pathway among a variety of flowers - peonies, English roses, heather in large stone vases. "It's private here too. Guy and I used to come here sometimes, when we needed to be alone. To talk about things, or to…." Her words trailed off, and she cleared her throat.

"I understand. It seemed to me that it took some arranging on the Sheriff's part to ensure we wouldn't be disturbed as well. He had to speak to his guards before we could be alone."

"Yes, sometimes it's complicated." Meridwyn agreed. "I wonder…." She said softly, absently.

"Wonder what?" Rhiannon asked.

"Where he is now….what he's doing?" Meridwyn said.

"Well….he's hopefully meeting up with the Sheriff by now, and together they're forming a plan to capture that outlaw!"

"No. I don't mean Guy, Lady Rhiannon."

"Whomever do you mean, then?" she asked puzzled.

"There was another, before Guy. Not a man of great means, but oh, he was feisty, yet tender at the same time. Strangely, I have not seen him in years. Oh my, how long now?" She said as she looked up.

"Who?"

"Three I think. Yes, three years! Isn't that odd? Oh I looked for him. He must have tired of me. He just disappeared, all of sudden…just like that!" she snapped her fingers up near to Rhiannon's face, startling her. "It was so strange. I really thought he loved me you know. I hope nothing happened to him…."

"Who?!" Rhiannon asked.

"Will. Will Scarlett. He was a friend of the Sheriff's archenemy at the time – Robin of Locksley. They used to have all kinds of adventures together."

"What was he like?"

"He was good to me, but that was so long ago. Honestly, I think he's long gone. I'm sure he moved on and settled somewhere. Or maybe not. He was never one to stay put in one place too long."

"When did you meet Guy then?" Rhiannon coaxed.

"Oh. Guy was not the next in succession after Will." Meridwyn hesitated to add, but she had already mentioned it.

"Then who was it?" Rhiannon asked.

"It was your Sheriff my Lady. Don't you recall my telling you about it? Alas, it was very brief….barely worth mentioning in fact." She coughed. She was feeling uncomfortable, now that they were friends.

Rhiannon looked at her, raising a brow.

"No. No, Rhiannon. We did not. It never got that far. In fact, that was part of the reason I moved on. I met Guy through him. He'll be a wonderful stand in brother in law one day, if Guy would ever ask me. But as man and woman, my dear, we were completely wrong for each other. He'll always be dear to me, and a friend to me. But it'll never amount to any more than that. It never did."

Rhiannon relaxed and smiled. She was glad. She didn't wish to feel threatened by her friend.

"It was nothing more than a girlish fancy on my part. We tried, but there was no chemistry. I was sad about it, until I met Guy. And then, I understood what the talk was all about. The chemistry was there with Guy, it still is. Funny, it was there with Will too?"

"I wonder why it is you are thinking of him?" Rhiannon said as she stopped to sniff the scent from a large bloom of a soft pink peonie. She picked it and put it in her silky hair, offering one to her friend as well. Meridwyn accepted and did the same with her bloom.

"I guess because it's been so long since I've been with Guy. It's been…oh my….over a month now. Yes. He left with the Sheriff the first time. My mind is taking odd directions. I don't know why." She paused. "Why am I wondering about Will? I do miss Guy. I do love him!"

"I know you do Meridwyn." They stopped a moment to admire the beautiful flowers, the landscaping around them. A fog was moving in toward them. Rhiannon spoke "Do you ride?"

"Ride? What do you mean? Horses?" Meridwyn said

"Yes."

"I have a little. I'm no expert horseman by any means."

"That's okay, I'm a bit of an equestrian. Have to be, when you're a lady living alone. Would you be up for a journey?"

"What on earth do you have in mind?"

Rhiannon raised her brow and stared at her with her green eyes, smirking.

"Rhiannon. No! We are not heading north to find Guy and the Sheriff!" Meridwyn shook her head, her fiery curls dancing in the wind.

"Are you afraid?" Rhiannon asked, challenging her.

"Oh my God. Rhiannon….you've gone mad! That's it! I'm going to speak with the witch and the midwife. I had them pegged all wrong!" she said as she picked up her skirts and turned around starting back quickly towards the castle.

Rhiannon quickened her pace and caught up to her.

"Meridwyn. Wait!" she cried out. Meridwyn stopped, rolled her eyes, then paused to listen. Rhiannon continued "Yes I've gone mad. You're going mad too! Don't you want to see him? I'd die to see him again!"

"Rhiannon, you have got to calm down. Listen to me! The journey is fraught with danger. There is a very bad outlaw at large. The Sheriff and Guy are pursuing him. Until they capture him, he is on the loose. We cannot afford to run into this man!"

"I know but, just to see him again. To hold him again…" she sighed. She missed touching his black wavy hair, kissing his incredible lips, running her hands over his strong shoulders. His smile, his touch, his voice…

"Remember what I told you before, Rhiannon." Meridwyn said as she placed her hands on her shoulders. "He will return. They always do. This is how it must be when you are…." She was cut off

"The Lady to the most important man about town. Yes, I know." Rhiannon finished the sentence.

"So enough of this talk. You've only just recovered. And the Sheriff would not be pleased – you know that! He went to a great deal of trouble, assigning heaven knows how many people in all to watch over you. You do know that Margaret and Mortianna and everyone else are simply following his implicit orders don't you?"

"Yes." A beat "Are you?"

"I am….but only because he is right." Meridwyn reassured as she lightly kissed Rhiannon's forehead.

That very night, some two hundred miles in the distance north from where the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn had collapsed side by head still dressed in their gowns on the Sheriff's bed (and Lady Margaret seated in the den outside the chambers, disgusted as usual with their girlish games) – in a strange turn of events, it was the first time in days there was no rain. And, as the Fallen Knight had requested, there the Sheriff approached the hill by the abandoned castle as the moon was peaking over the horizon. With his sack of one thousand pieces of gold to offer, he dismounted and started up the hill where the man was standing. It looked like there was a basket lying at his feet. At forty yards he stopped.

"Bring the child to me!" he called out.

Nothing. The man just stood there. No movement.

"You have three seconds!" He shouted as he pulled his bow and arrow out and aimed it expertly. "Now…come toward me with the child!"

The Fallen Knight didn't budge. Nor did he speak. Swiftly the Sheriff shot a bow through the air. It met it's target. The center of the man's chest. The man was hit, but again, he did not move. He did not fall. That was not a man at all! The Sheriff's eyes widened. He ran towards – he didn't know what. And then… the basket was at the foot of a scarecrow, not a man. He looked down at the mass of blankets in the basket, it was wrapped around a large rock. Placed under that was a scroll. He muttered his disgust as he took it. He unrolled it, and tried to pry it open while holding the torch near to it for light. Finally, he was able to make out the words:

"My Good Sheriff of Nottingham,

If indeed your eyes are cast upon this scroll

I admit, I'm impressed.

I never thought you'd part with your money to spare a child.

It makes my plans for you all the sweeter….

Because, my Good Sheriff,

Now….perhaps you understand my position.

You think you can pay me off?

Your gold cannot buy back my brother's life, my face, or give my lover back to me. So….

I no longer have your bastard child.

The child was given to a home in the village nearby.

Love is gone. Passed away….

Or is it?

You have two loves now. Before you had none. Both are in opposing directions. A distance of some two hundred miles.

Will you look for your child?

Or, shall you return to Nottingham. For your Lady?

Oh….I forgot. She's safe there at Nottingham Castle no less. Surrounded by your guards. Isn't she Sheriff?

Just as your two consorts the mistresses, Catherine and Hecate, were safe. Tucked into their cozy little beds with your guards stationed nearby.

You do remember them don't you?

Yes, dear Sheriff – safe and sound.

Your child, or your lady?

Don't think on it long.

I can play this as long as needed, and I shall.

I hope you can begin to endure the game…

The Fallen Knight


	16. Chapter 16

And so, despite her earlier protestations to the contrary, she yielded to the advice of the elder ladies in charge of her care….

Her dreams were mainly made up of memories…the taste of her dark prince's kiss when his lips met hers on a misty gloomy September Sunday. Yet a light seemed to appear around them. The scent of dew on the leaves of the fragrant white roses. Heather. Musk. New English leather. A flash of his mysterious hazel eyes burning into her soul. Seductive. Dangerous. Able to conceal volumes about his character. His thoughts. And then, playing in slowed motion in the depths of her subconscious – in the den outside of her lover's private chambers. The touch of his hand as she grasped the cool metal of the silver goblet, when he handed her the tincture of rapture. A special issue made especially for the Sheriff by the Benedictine Monks in 1194, she would later find out. The taste that started it all. Next she was in his arms holding him closer to her than she ever imagined in her darkest fantasies. His breath upon her ear. The way the chill down her spine preceded his touch when she felt the energy of his hands near her receptive skin. Glowing like honey in the firelight. His perfect lips brushing hers as he kissed her and whispered words of pure sugar. The way he felt moving inside of her. That familiar ache to feel him within her, again. She felt warmth. Very brief warmth.

Then, a cold menacing touch clasping her slender throat juxtaposed the earlier scene that flashed in her dreams….

"Are you obtuse as well?" the cold sinister voice said. "Don't expect to live much longer after….." again the words even in dreams would not present. The phrase left open to suggestion. The memory of being taken by surprise, and grabbed in the garden. The cold hard object that hit her head. The stars. The pain. The blackness. The words she said aloud in a prison cell.

"My Lord….you must come quick! ….bleeding….our"… Another phrase that wouldn't complete itself in the dream.

She was suddenly aware she was being shaken. She was beginning to find her way out of the dream that turned into the nightmare.

"Rhiannon! Rhiannon, open your eyes, dear girl. It's nearing midday for the love of Mary!" Meridwyn called.

"Oh? Oh! Yes. Oh my…midday?" She said as she sat up. She felt the back of her head with her hand, remembering what had unfolded in her dreams.

"Are you quite yourself?" Meridwyn asked.

Rhiannon, seated on the bed in a lavender gown, with gossamer sleeves the colour of a January moon, was a vision. Meridwyn suddenly couldn't picture her upon a horse.

"Oh yes. I was just rather tired this morning." Rhiannon replied as she arose and walked toward a velvet upholstered chair to seat herself. She smoothed her skirts as she smiled at Lady Meridwyn.

"How are you now, then?" Meridwyn prodded.

"Very well."

"Good. Because I've been considering some things." Meridwyn found a matching chair near to Rhiannon and slumped upon it. "There's a lot wrong with the thought of remaining in this castle for any length of time without the company of Guy and your Sheriff. And furthermore….we shall go mad, Rhiannon!" She moved forward towards her, her summer sky blue eyes pleading. She started to shake her head. "You were right."

Rhiannon squinted her eyes, puzzled. "What are you attempting to convey, Meridwyn?" she asked.

"Let's do it! Let's travel onwards to the north." Meridwyn replied in an excited tone.

"You are telling me now, that you wish to look for our lovers, dear Meridwyn?" she inquired with knowing grin. She needed to hear this again.

"Yes." She smiled. "I believe it's best. I have a strong perception that madman is on his way here. Remember our earlier conversation, dear friend? We both escaped."

Rhiannon's smile faded like a whisper.

"And, assurance." Meridwyn continued "I want to be near my lover. I need to feel safe again. What good are two old crones, a daft old scribe, and Nottingham's guards? What good did those incompetent guards do for you last autumn, Rhiannon?! Tell me!" she exclaimed.

Rhiannon was quick to agree. "Absolutely, Meridwyn. My lover should most certainly terminate them!"

"How soon may we depart do you think?" Meridwyn asked.

"We must figure out how to fool them. It would have to take place after dusk. We must wear dark clothing. We don't want them to notice us. They shall surely follow us!"

"Yes, this will take some planning." Meridwyn agreed.

"I've got all day. So do you. We'll get there, dear Meridwyn."

And together they spent the rest of the afternoon scheming and devising methods for an escape from Nottingham to search for their lovers who were far into the distance. Unaware of the menacing man in between here and there who was on a mission. Looking for Lady Rhiannon. The woman he saw in a village in the North and grew to love from afar. Until he followed her back to Nottingham. Followed her practically every day, when he wasn't busying himself capturing and murdering other women. And then, the horror of watching her in the cathedral foyer, begin to seduce his enemy. He waited, lurking in the distance. Then much later, lurking in the garden. He toyed with the idea of killing the Sheriff then. Instead he came up with a much greater plan. Kidnap his lover. He was planning to kill the wench until he could see she was with child. Then he had another masterful plan. Use the child to further torture the Good Sheriff of Nottingham. And besides the Sheriff's Lady, there was another maid in Nottingham who'd escaped him. Another beautiful, fiery spirit he owed a visit to. He wasn't just headed to Nottingham for one maid. He was going back to the beginning. Where the killing and revenge all began. He was planning to capture the two beauties who got away. The two maidens who no doubt thought one day they'd reign supreme in Nottingham, with the loathed Sheriff and his cousin, Gisborne. Might as well make it a family affair! He thought. And suddenly, he was reminded of his own. If he could call it a family. They were never together. They were forever apart.

He stared into the fire that night. As he was taking a rest from his long journey to Nottingham. "There's only one thing left to do with you before I kill you, my Good Sheriff." He hissed. "Send you as insane as I in the moments preceding it. As long as it takes. Whatever it takes me to do." He said with a satisfied grin.

The Sheriff slept better than he had in awhile due to sheer exhaustion. His repose filled with blissful images of his lady.

In his dreams he could envision her as vivid as day. Her sultry green eyes, her shiny sable hair. She was alluring and magnetic and he was drawn in beyond return. He could see her when she cast her first glance upon him.

The look on her face as he ravished her in his bed. Her smile. Her warmth. The way she made him strive to be a better man. Then, a sudden gnawing in his gut as his built in alarm kicked in to jolt him back to reality at the break of dawn.

As he and Guy started on their hasty journey, he was quiet and kept to himself for most of the first day they traveled. He knew his cousin would understand. Guy knew him well enough to know that when the Sheriff had much on his mind, he needed quiet to lend contemplation of his plans. In this case however, he wasn't making concrete plans. Instead he was tormenting himself with excess worry.

Finally, when nearing the end of the day and they were again planning to stop and rest for the night, he opened conversation with his cousin.

"Cousin, are you holding up? I refer to our ladies. You seem less concerned than I am." He inquired, puzzled.

"I'm not thinking about it. Neither should you, cousin." Guy replied.

"I can't help but worry somewhat."

"We have a task at hand, sire. In my mind, I won't be any use to Meridwyn if I lose focus. You already know this. I learned this from you!" he stated, rather bewildered at the Sheriff's change in behaviour. For many years, the Sheriff was unable to be distracted by anything, no matter what situation they'd encountered together. Even during the siege in Sherwood Forest when Locksley and his band of outlaws took them by surprise, the Sheriff never wavered.

"I loathe this feeling, cousin. You were right. It makes me feel….weakened." he hesitated to say the word. He hated the word. "I must cease worrying, I know it. But I….love her." His words trailed off as he pondered the statement.

"Of course you do, cousin. You asked for her hand?!"

"Yes, but. I didn't realize how deeply until now. I knew she was meant to be my wife. I just didn't know a man could love his betrothed the way I love my Rhiannon. How can a man about to be married be so happy?" he asked.

Guy was surprised to note that the expression on his cousin's face indicated that he was not jesting.

The Sheriff added "I don't know any married man to be this happy?" He suddenly noted the awestruck expression on Guy's face and with his eyebrow raised he said "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't know. Puzzled by that statement. But then again, it pleases me to know that some of the old you is still in there."

"I never left, cousin." The Sheriff said.

"On the contrary, sire. The day you met the Lady Rhiannon, a part of you left forever."

"Perhaps." He mused. "But if I had less people to concern myself over, it would be much easier!"

The town blacksmith was preparing to meet with the swordsmith following supper with his wife when the miracle happened. He opened the heavy oak door and his boot almost made contact with the basket placed on his doorstep.

Inside the basket lay an infant wrapped in soft white blankets. Like a little cherub nestled on a cloud. The child was asleep despite the chill in the evening air. He picked up the basket and took it inside.

His wife was in the sitting room, seated on a chair penning a letter to a sick relative. She looked up, surprised to see her husband standing before her again so soon. Wondering what he was doing holding a basket?

"My dearest wife." He smiled. "Our prayers have been answered!" he began.

Her eyes widened and brimmed with tears as he continued.

"God has brought us a baby." He said softly as he took the basket containing the dark curly haired, green eyed infant to his wife.

Considering all she'd been through, Lady Rhiannon seemed more fit for the journey ahead. Meridwyn on the other hand, was slightly apprehensive.

They managed to find a map – a copy containing illustrated back roads penned by the Scribe for the Sheriff. Rhiannon and Meridwyn hoped the map would hasten their arrival time. After all, why else would they be noted on the map? The Sheriff and Guy would need to know the fastest route possible when in pursuit of an outlaw. As they were doing right now. The ladies' intentions to utilize the map made sense to them. Their decision to follow it was the worst mistake they could make.

When the moon was high they chose that time to steal into the Sheriff's stables to 'borrow' a couple of horses. They chose ones with dark coats, that would be hard to see at night. Both the ladies wore long dark capes as well in an effort to conceal them in the darkness.

Rhiannon was leading the way, sometimes at a pace too fast for Meridwyn to keep up with. At one point, Rhiannon pulled on the reins to stop her horse and eased the horse around to face Meridwyn, who was lagging.

"Meridwyn!" she called. "Do hurry!"

Meridwyn approached and gave her friend a disgruntled look as the moonlight danced on her face and her hair and said "I'm no expert horseman, Rhiannon. I told you that before. And it's difficult to focus my eyes in this blackness! Why did you pick the middle of the night to embark?" she asked.

"Because. You know why. We mustn't be seen."

"Well it's working. Because I can't see you half the time!" Meridwyn said.

"I'll try to move a little slower. But you know why we had to wear these dark cloaks. Anything to keep us from being spotted."

"Yes. And I'm sure that murderous madman could be thinking the same thing!" Meridwyn replied.

"The Sheriff and Guy are after him, Meridwyn. You shouldn't worry yourself so much about that. We need to concentrate on our reason for departing. We're looking for our lovers are we not?" Rhiannon said as they both kicked their horses into a gallop again.

"Yes. I wish I could shake this dreadful feeling about that man, though." Meridwyn said.

"You'll feel so much better when we find them. I will." Rhiannon reassured.

"It's times like this I wish Guy wasn't the Deputy of Nottingham." Meridwyn said. "I'd be happier to see him at home. Even better, in his bed. Where no danger lurks."

"Well, we could go back." Rhiannon suggested. Meridwyn cast a curious look upon her. "We could just sit and wait for them to return to us. Until, well, I don't know when…."

"No. Let's keep going." Meridwyn said. "I don't like this chasing after them on horses in the middle of the night, but I shall be relieved when he's nearer to me."

Rhiannon nodded an agreement, and was suddenly aware of the familiar feeling of fatigue and weakness that sometimes came over her. She hadn't felt quite herself in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she felt perfectly fit. Maybe the first night she shared with the Sheriff. The more she thought about it, she realized that was one of the last times she felt so well. So happy. So safe. Even when she was intimate with her man right before his last departure she didn't feel quite her best. So much remained hidden. Repressed. She knew there was so much more than what her mind was permitting her to remember about that dreadful time. She came to the conclusion that there was a good reason she couldn't remember everything. It must be so awful it was worth burying. She realized she needed to stop torturing herself trying to recall whatever dark secrets that were best kept hidden, and focus on finding the Sheriff.

How she missed him. She wondered what he was doing at this moment. Was he thinking of her? She imagined his hazel eyes staring up at the sky, thinking of her. Then she saw his eyes meet hers in flashes of memory. Those piercing sexy eyes, seering into her soul. His warm breath on her neck before he kissed her. She hoped she'd find the Sheriff soon.

Even unconscious, he couldn't banish her from his dreams. During the waking hours he tried not to think of her. Taking some good advice from his cousin. But in dreams, he couldn't help suppress the memories of her. The nearness of her. The taste of her….

He tensed his facial muscles. A ripple of heat started in his skin, slowly….while he remembered some of their first night together.

"Rhiannon." He breathed "Are you sure you want this?"

"Mm hmm." She murmured an agreement as she kissed his chest. He grabbed her face and urged her to look at him.

"Tell me you want this!" he said more forcefully

"I'm very sure." She breathed in his ear.

He grabbed the back of her head to pull her in closely to him.

"I need you…." She whispered just before his mouth landed hard upon hers. Hungry. Hungry for the taste of her.

Somewhere in his subconscious he was aware this wasn't real. He wanted it to be real. Despite the vague knowledge to the contrary his body responded. The ripple of heat slowly spread and coursed through him. He could almost feel her lips on his, her tongue on his tongue. Her soft firm breasts, and silky skin. He could almost feel her closing her legs around him. Her hot wetness as he plunged deep inside of her. He tossed about in his cot during his blissful bittersweet dream. Because he knew – this wasn't real. It was a memory. Her naked body responding to him. Opening to him. Submitting to him. He remembered. Beautiful. Sweet. Sensuous. Responsive Rhiannon. Better than any treasure.

He moaned softly in his sleep as the dream faded away. His body still on fire for hers. Yearning for her like she was water or air. He literally awoke gasping. He opened his eyes briefly. He remembered the dream, in vague flashes but his memory of that night wasn't lost. He reached over for his flask of water and took a sip, as it all came back to him. Frustrated, he set the flask back down. It was clear to him he'd never rest until he was holding her next to him again. He realized he'd be hard pressed to resist her when he saw her next. He hoped they'd be alone.

"My lady, Rhiannon…" he whispered, like a prayer "I've never loved anyone. Until you."

His black cloak felt soft and oddly furry next to her cheek. Her vision was blurred but she felt him. He touched her cheek, lifted her chin up to meet his eyes with his gloved hand.

She looked into his sexy hazel eyes, trying hard to focus. He made her melt. Her own eyes misted over in desire.

"Rhiannon." He spoke "What do you see? When you look at me that way. What do you see?"

"Dangerous excitement. Fiery passion." She whispered hoarsely. Her throat was dry.

"Is that what you want, my lady?"

"Yes." She answered. "Not just what I want but….you give me what I need."

He looked down at her and smiled. "Oh, my lady." His chocolate voice sighed. "You always know what to say and do to set my soul on fire." He kissed her then, and held her to him. Then she rested back against his chest. Against his soft cloak. His rather furry cloak….

"Rhiannon!" Meridwyn called out from a distant place. "Wake up!"

She awoke bent forward with her cheek resting on the horse's neck. She wished her brief beautiful dream was real.

"I knew it!" Meridwyn said as she brought the horse up alongside Rhiannon's and slowed it to a halt. "We should've waited a day or two. You're still not recuperated."

"I'm fine." Rhiannon said as she sat upright and smoothed her face and hair. She put the hood of her black cape back over head. "Wait a few more days?" she turned to face Meridwyn. Her green eyes ablaze in the moonlight. "In there? Without our lovers that castle may as well have been a prison! Forced to sit, biding our time with idle chatter and wait tediously – with nothing useful to occupy our time with? No means of escape? As it was we had to steal these horses!" She smoothed her skirts, and checked to make sure the dagger was still in her pocket. The one she stole from the Sheriff's private chambers. The horses, and the dagger. She couldn't think about that now. She'd think about that later.

Meridwyn just looked at her. Rather perplexed by Rhiannon's sudden outburst. Pent up frustration, she supposed. It was no wonder. Lady Rhiannon managed her estate on her own before all of this happened. All control was stripped from her. Meridwyn suddenly realized what Rhiannon possessed that most women – including herself, did not. Independence. Self assurance. Truthfully, Rhiannon proved she didn't need anybody. Maybe that was what it was about her that captivated the Sheriff of Nottingham? Meridwyn had known him for years. No woman had ever completely captivated the Sheriff. Had ever made him care that much. Ever. She tried to hide a smile of amusement when she realized – "He's angry deep down that she doesn't truly need him! He wants her to need him!..."

"You're not saying a word." Rhiannon interrupted her thoughts. "Do you not agree that it was best to depart when we did?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes and no. I only have doubts now, because I fear I put my own needs ahead of yours. You've only recently recovered from a terrible ordeal. I forgot all about that when I came to you at midday with a change in heart about your idea to pursue Guy and the Sheriff on horses." Meridwyn still found it hard to hide a smile. So she tried to keep her profile hidden in her hood as much as possible for the time being.

"I'm perfectly recovered, dear friend." Rhiannon said as they urged their horses into a canter. "I don't need anything – just the moon to light our paths right now."

"Yes, interesting." Meridwyn commented softly.

"What's that, Meridwyn?"

"Oh. Yes – it would seem." She lied.


	17. Chapter 17

In the depths below the Sheriff's private chambers, the witch was feeding her pet crow. Leaning in for a closer look with her one good eye, the left. At the moment she was tempting him with raw meat, when she heard footsteps on the stone stairway. Lady Margaret was advancing down the stairs toward her, picking up her grey cotton skirts at the front, to prevent a fall in her haste.

"She is gone. They are both gone!" Lady Margaret exclaimed.

"Who is gone?" Mortianna inquired curiously.

"Lady Rhiannon. And the Lady Meridwyn! They are both gone. Disappeared!"

"That's not possible." The witch stated as she walked towards Lady Margaret.

"Yes. It is. I informed the guards when I couldn't find her. So we looked for Lady Meridwyn to seek her assistance, but she's missing too!"

"Gone?" Mortianna replied in awe "From this castle? They must be somewhere out on the grounds. At the garden perhaps?"

"No. They have left. It was discovered someone broke into the Sheriff's stables. One of the Sheriff's guards just informed me. What shall we do?"

"We send some guards to search for them. We have the authority. We were designated charge over Lady Rhiannon by the Sheriff." Mortianna suggested.

"Already done. Two went in search of them."

"She will grow tired, Lady Margaret. Wherever they went, it can't be far. She won't endure." Mortianna attempted to reassure.

"I hope you are right, Madam." Lady Margaret said as she twisted some of the fabric of her skirts in her hands.

As the Sheriff and Gisborne were making their way on a road that forked in two directions, Guy came up beside the Sheriff.

"This is the more direct road, sire. I thought you'd prefer the shortcuts. I have a copy of that map if you've forgotten yours. There's the path to our right." He pointed.

"We're not taking the shortcuts." The Sheriff replied "The back roads can present some challenges that could slow our journey. That outlaw got a head start on us, cousin. Let's stick to the more direct route."

"As you wish." Guy replied.

And so they continued along the main road. After a time, out of sheer curiosity, Guy decided to ask the Sheriff a question that had him puzzled.

"Cousin, I've been meaning to ask you something." He began. The Sheriff glanced over at him briefly. "A few nights ago, when you found us, you mentioned Lady Rhiannon remembers nothing of the infant. It's true, cousin? She doesn't remember the…"

"Yes. She truly doesn't remember anything about it. Him. Her. Whatever." The Sheriff stated.

"Are you sure she had a child? I think the Fallen Knight is sending you on a wild goose chase. It's impossible a maid couldn't recall her own child!"

"Trust me, cousin. I had her thoroughly examined. It's true. Apparently I have a child." The Sheriff sighed.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that that's what all the blood was about?" Guy asked, still skeptical.

"Well, no. I wasn't, but since you mention it." The Sheriff replied, rather annoyed at the conversation thus far.

"I think you're being tricked." Guy stated matter of factly.

"If it's a trick, cousin, it deserves mention in a scroll of history. It would be one hell of an elaborate trick!" He turned to Guy, his eyes widened when he continued "Even I never would have thought it up."

"Are you absolutely, without a doubt certain that Lady Rhiannon delivered Your child?" Guy asked suddenly.

The Sheriff looked at Guy with one eyebrow raised. He took a moment to answer, and then he responded.

"Just where exactly are you going with this line of questioning?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Are you certain she indeed delivered Your child?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"Either she, or that murderous bastard are playing a trick on you, cousin. Maybe the child is not yours but his! If there is a child at all? Don't you see? This could be a trap!" Guy exclaimed.

The Sheriff pulled on the reins to stop his horse. His cousin followed suit. Guy wished he didn't have to ask, but he had to let the Sheriff know if he felt he was being played. It was not only his responsibility as the Deputy, but as family.

"Look." The Sheriff began "I'm not going to get into details about it, but suffice to say that all indications point to the fact the Lady did indeed deliver a child. I bedded her at the approximate time the child was conceived." The Sheriff spoke, his jaw clenched in anger. His black wavy hair gleamed in the sunlight like the down of a raven.

"I know. But, he too could've – could be, the father."

"How?" the Sheriff asked.

"He could've forced himself upon her. Taken liberties with her. Or, who knows? Maybe there was someone before you?"

The Sheriff paused a moment to consider a reply before responding in an effort to control himself.

"Cousin, you and Lady Meridwyn are intimate are you not?" he said evenly.

Guy just looked at him, unable to answer right away.

"You recall the time I sent for you and the rest of the men that night we first left to search for Rhiannon? The page told me when he entered your chambers, that Meridwyn was with you." The Sheriff stated.

"Yes. It's true. But she's not with child. Or claiming to be." Guy responded weakly. He knew his answer didn't hold any weight.

"I've known this for some time. That you and she are….shall we say? Close." He reached over suddenly and grabbed Guy by his collar and shouted "Have I ever referred to your Lady as a whore? Because that's essentially what you're calling mine!"

"No, my Lord." Guy replied hoarsely.

The Sheriff let go of him and straightened. "It's easy for you, Guy. You're younger than I. Look how long it took me to find a lady such as she? I gave up long ago. But now, not only do I have her, I have a family. Besides you, somewhere out there – I have a son or a daughter…" he stopped himself. He revealed too much. It was making him feel vulnerable.

"You truly believe it." Guy stated. It wasn't another question. He could tell by the look on his cousin's face – the Sheriff really believed it to be so.

"Yes. I truly believe it. And, the page who brought the first scroll with the ransom demands described the child to me."

"And? You didn't tell me this?" Guy said.

"I asked him about his master." The Sheriff began as he remembered that day. The boy standing before him, telling him all about the Fallen Knight. "I asked the lad if the man was alone. He told me he had a baby with him."

"Oh." Guy replied quietly, now starting to realize the enormity of the situation. Because he didn't really believe the nonsense about the baby before. When it was first mentioned, the Sheriff was falling asleep in the saddle and standing in front of his tent. Guy thought the Sheriff was delusional because of exhaustion!

"So I asked him to describe the infant." The Sheriff continued "I wanted to know if it was healthy, and if a boy or a girl."

"And?" Guy asked.

"How did he describe it? Oh yes – dark curly hair. Green eyes. Chubby cheeks." The Sheriff said.

"That's it?" Guy asked.

The Sheriff leaned in close and continued "My hair. Her eyes! That child is mine!" the Sheriff exclaimed.

"A boy or a girl?" Guy asked.

"He couldn't tell me. Obviously he wasn't meant to know."

"Because he's very cunning." Guy said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"What's that, cousin?" The Sheriff asked.

"This madman we're after. If we're after him – I don't know anymore. He's cunning. He kept the child's gender a secret – so you wouldn't find out. To make the search more difficult."

"You're just now starting to see what we're dealing with. Good. Glad we're on the same page." The Sheriff commented as he slapped Guy on the shoulder.

"He really is mad. And he's really headed to Nottingham Castle isn't he?" Guy said. It wasn't really a question. Now he knew for certain, the danger that Meridwyn was in.

"Yes. Now – are you with me?" The Sheriff asked.

"Meridwyn…." Guy breathed in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes. Meridwyn, and Rhiannon. We must get to our ladies, Guy!" With that, they both sent their horses into a gallop.

Guy hurried to catch up to his cousin to ask one more question. One he never thought to ask until now.

"Cousin! Wait!" he shouted as he came up beside him. The Sheriff looked over at him as he continued.

"You said you asked the page about his master. That madman. Did the lad describe him?"

They both slowed their horses in an effort to talk more freely.

"Yes. He said he was very tall, and the man wore a hood over his face. The lad never saw his face." The Sheriff answered.

"He mentioned his face in the document. The second one you showed me."

"Yes he did, didn't he?" the Sheriff mused.

"Do you know someone whose face was disfigured, sire? It could be someone from long past. Obviously in Nottingham, since he's quite familiar with it."

"I can't think of anyone. I have been wondering about it, though. The man presumes to know me, so I must have been acquainted with him somehow. I don't remember anyone with a facial deformity, though."

"If you knew him, it wasn't in a friendly manner. My guess would be, he was once one of your prisoners."

"Maybe so, but I still don't recall any who wore a hood over their face. But believe you me…." He started as he looked over at Guy "We Are after him. Just so you're no longer confused about the plan. We're going to go straight to the castle, find our ladies and move them to safety. Then we wait for him."

"But he got a head start." Guy pointed out.

"Now look who's doubtful? I have to focus on the prospect of us arriving there first. We must. If we don't we are giving up on Rhiannon, and Meridwyn."

"You're right. I think I'm going to fix something when we return. Something I should've done some time ago." Guy remarked more to himself than anyone.

"What's that, cousin?"

"As long as it's alright with you."

The Sheriff looked over at him, puzzled.

"I will ask for Lady Meridwyn's hand. But I do not wish to take away from your upcoming nuptials with Lady Rhiannon." Guy said.

The Sheriff smiled as he replied "It's about time you made her my sister in law, cousin."

"I don't know if that's the proper term for it, since we're cousins."

"Well, what – am I supposed to call her my cousin in law? It doesn't matter. Neither of us have siblings. We're the closest each will ever get to a brother."

"My lady tell me that all the time, cousin." Guy said.

"Tells you what?"

"That she thinks you and I are more like brothers than cousins."

"She is clever too." The Sheriff remarked. "Anyway, as I said – it's high time. How long has it been? Three years now?"

"Almost three." Guy replied, embarrassed.

"Lucky for you she waited all that time." The Sheriff said.

"We were never ready before. But I know now."

"Because she's in danger." The Sheriff surmised.

"I suppose. I guess I never considered before, the possibility of her absence from my life."

"Oh yes, I know." The Sheriff agreed. "I never thought I'd be choosing a wife. Then when she was gone all those months, I just knew. Next thing – as soon as she was recovered I was asking for her hand." The Sheriff paused a moment before he added "Our paths are taking new directions, cousin."

"Yes they are."

"I'd like you and Meridwyn to remain in the castle with me and Rhiannon."

"But, sire!...." Guy began. He was interrupted immediately.

"It has always been your home. The castle is so grand in size we'll hardly notice each other. Plus, our ladies enjoy each other's company. It would be good for them." The Sheriff said. And good for my child, he thought.

"I'm sure my lady would like that, cousin. I would too."

"Then it shall be done."

The day turned into night. Then the dawn of a new day began. And so the journey continued. Onwards on the main road leading directly to Nottingham, the Sheriff and Guy traveled. It was now nine days since they commenced the journey back to Nottingham. The weather had been fair, but now it appeared a storm was approaching from the west. They took a path that they knew lead to a clearing where they could stop for the night. The clearing was between the main road and the shortcut that was illustrated on their map. The wind began to kick up as they set up their tents.

Not too much further south from where the Sheriff and Guy were setting up camp for the night, were the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn. Despite being somewhat ill prepared, somehow they'd managed for several days on their own.

Meridwyn was fingering the gold locket she wore around her neck. She was stopped ahead of Rhiannon this time. Rhiannon glided up beside her on her horse. Meridwyn was looking off to the west.

"There's a storm coming, Rhiannon. We've been lucky so far, but where shall we go now?" she said as she kept toying with her necklace absently.

"I don't know. Let me think a moment." Rhiannon replied. Then she added "What is that about your neck?" as she pointed to Meridwyn's locket.

"Guy gave it to me. At the Yule Feast last winter. It's inscribed on the back." She showed it to Lady Rhiannon. The words on the back of the ornate, heart shaped medallion read : "All my love, GG"

"It's beautiful." Rhiannon commented.

"I wear it for luck." Meridwyn said as she tucked it into the bodice of her gown.

"We could do with some luck." Rhiannon said as she took a moment to take in her surroundings. "Maybe there's somewhere around here we can stop for the night?"

"Let's hope." Meridwyn said.

And so they continued off the path in search of a clearing or somewhere they could safely rest. A shelter from the storm that was fast approaching.

His hood was lashing about his face in the fierce winds that were stirring all around him. Even though the scars were healed by now, he still found it irritating. He knew of a vacant cabin in the vicinity. It was best to stop and wait out the storm. The ladies would still be waiting for him at Nottingham Castle. The Sheriff couldn't possibly have come this far by now. He decided he could afford to stop for awhile. Even though he was eager to continue. He was not tired. He was very much awake. There was a taste creeping up inside of him. The lust for torture and killing. He pulled a flask of wine out of his coat pocket and took a generous gulp. Lightening flashed and illuminated the scene in the distance. It appeared two maidens riding horses were in the distance headed toward him. He decided to go off the path and hide in the trees. Maybe he could partake of some amusement before he went to the empty cabin.

"Let's stay close, Rhiannon. I don't like this." Meridwyn voiced her fear.

"I agree. I don't know why, but I get a strange feeling too."

"Do you see anything?" Meridwyn asked "A safe place for us to stop?" A flash of lightening illuminated their faces.

"Not yet." Rhiannon replied, as the thunder started and the first drops of rain fell.

They continued side by side together, down the path. With thick forest on either side. The rain began to pelt harder, and the thunder relentless. Which is why they didn't notice right away, when a bow struck Meridwyn's horse. The horse kicked up in terror, and Meridwyn was thrown. Rhiannon let out a scream in the watery darkness.

"Meridwyn!!"

He flew out at them from between the trees. Meridwyn lay on the ground, supine. Unconscious. Her cape was open, her golden chain had fallen out of her bodice. The madman went to her. He was pleased that he recognized her. He grabbed her by her chain and used it to pull her up to him.

"Well, well, well! The one who got away!" He laughed as he tore at the chain until it broke, then tossed it to the ground. "And who is your friend?" he remarked as he looked up.

"Get away from us!" Rhiannon shrieked. She wanted to reach in the pocket of her gown for the Sheriff's dagger. But he wouldn't take his eyes off her. He would surely notice!

"Oh. It's you again!" He said as he got up and swiftly advanced toward her. "My, my. I see the Sheriff let his personal physician work his magic on you." Quickly he moved in, and suddenly grabbed her pulling her off the horse. She tried to struggle free but his strength overpowered her. She stood before him, he covered her mouth with his gloved hand and hissed "You've recovered well." Before she knew it, she was being bound and gagged. The madman picked her up and carried her to the wagon he pulled behind his horse. Then he placed her in the same cart that held her infant just days ago, before going back for the first one to complete the task.

When he carefully lay Lady Meridwyn beside her companion who was glaring at him. Her green eyes staring in anger at him when the lightening flashed and lit up her face made his spine tingle in excitement. He leaned in close to Rhiannon so she could smell the dampness on his hood.

"I didn't know you could ride, my Lady. You see – I was coming for you. And her as it turns out." He pointed to Meridwyn who lay unconscious beside her. "And here you are! You see? It was meant to be!" he laughed as he jumped off the cart and mounted his horse. Rhiannon looked over at her friend as the wagon started moving. The cold rain coming down hard upon them. By some miracle, she thought – please let him find us!

The rain was pelting on the tent. The Sheriff awoke. He was once again reminded of the first day and night he spent with his lady. Every time he heard rain, he thought of it. He lay awake listening to the rain and the thunder which occurred at regular intervals. He wasn't too certain, but he thought he could make out the sounds of a woman's scream in the distance, in between two claps of thunder. He listened for it again. It was gone. It was only the storm.

The next morning it was still raining. The Sheriff and Guy had traveled about a half mile when they came upon some trees that had fallen across the path, they assumed during the vicious storm the night before. They stopped their horses.

"You have that map, cousin?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Guy pulled it out of his sack. "Here." He gave it to the Sheriff.

The Sheriff unrolled it and studied it. He pointed to another path. "That will take us to the shortcut. We're going to have to take it to get around this mess."

They set their horses on another route and continued on a narrow path with walls of forest on either side. After another half mile or so of traveling, they decided to dismount, stretch their legs, and take another look at the map that the Scribe penned for them.

"Do you think it's safe to head back to the main road?" Guy asked

"We should try. It is easier to travel." The Sheriff said as he took another moment to read the map.

Guy started to pace for awhile, when his eyes found something shining in a small puddle nearby on the path. He advanced toward it, and bent down to pick it up.

"There's a path up there we can take to get back to the main road." The Sheriff called to Guy.

"Oh, no." Guy said aloud.

"Cousin?" the Sheriff walked toward him. Guy was crouched low to the ground, holding a golden chain in his hand, studying the heart shaped medallion.

"Meridwyn." Guy said softly, his eyes squeezed shut.

"What is it?" the Sheriff asked.

"I gave this to Lady Meridwyn." He said as he stood up holding the chain out to show the Sheriff. "This is hers!" Guy exclaimed

The Sheriff looked at him in wide eyed astonishment. What would her chain be doing all the way out here? What in the devil? As his mind began swimming with endless questions, just then they heard the sound of horses naying. It was coming from….the forest?

The Sheriff left Guy for a moment to investigate. He walked toward the sounds he was hearing. Not far into the forest – maybe 30 yards, he saw them. His eyes widened again. There were his own horses!

He emerged from the forest. Guy was still standing there looking down upon the golden chain.

"They're here." The Sheriff called as he walked swiftly back to his cousin.

"What? Who?" Guy asked, startled.

"That's Meridwyn's chain?" he said as he pointed to it. Then he gestured off in the direction of the forest "Well those are My horses in the forest! One of them is injured!" He wanted to hit something. He couldn't believe it. Captured. Again.

"What? Our horses are over there!" Guy pointed to them.

"No, no, no! There are two additional horses from my lot – right in there!" He pointed to where the two other horses were in the forest.

Guy swallowed dryly.

"Our ladies are somewhere around here, cousin! They must have decided to come for us, for some peculiar reason!"

"Oh God." Guy sighed as he pocketed Meridwyn's chain.

"Come, cousin." The Sheriff said as he lead Guy back to their horses. "Our ladies need us."


	18. Chapter 18

Mortianna heard voices. Lady Margaret's, the Scribe's, and some of the Sheriff's guards. The voices were coming closer. Soon she heard the door fly open atop the stairs leading into the Sheriff's den outside of his chambers. She greeted them all at the foot of the stairs leading into her lair.

"Is there news?" She asked the Scribe, who headed the group of four standing before her. Two guards accompanied the Scribe and Lady Margaret. One was very tall, the other younger and shorter in stature.

"No, Madam. They haven't found them." The Scribe said.

"However will we tell the Sheriff when he returns?" Lady Margaret exclaimed "We failed him!"

The younger of the two of the Sheriff's guards came forward and spoke up.

"Madam, you assisted the Sheriff once before. You helped him locate her the last time. Perhaps you can tell us where the Ladies Rhiannon, and Meridwyn may be?" All eyes were suddenly upon the diminutive crone. She looked up at them.

"Come." She said. "I will look for you."

She lead them to the table she often sat at. The last time she had company was the night she told the Sheriff of Lady Rhiannon's captor. She had a stone cup waiting there. The remnants of batwing tea lay in scattered patterns along the base of the cup. She picked it up and squinted her eye to take a closer look. They waited for her to speak. It was only moments, but time seem suspended while they waited for her response.

"They are captured." She finally spoke abruptly. The others sighed.

"We are doomed!" Lady Margaret exclaimed. Mortianna raised her hand to silence her. She looked again into the cup.

"My Lord Sheriff, and Guy of Gisborne are nearby where the ladies are held. They are searching. They found a clue." She stated as her eyes glazed over.

"Well tell us, Madam!" the younger guard urged.

"The Gods be with them." Mortianna suddenly exclaimed.

"Who?" The guards, the Scribe, and Lady Margaret all replied in unison.

"The Sheriff and the Deputy, Guy of Gisborne."

"What?" the Scribe asked for clarification.

"Both of them are in grave danger of losing their ladies. The Ladies Meridwyn and Rhiannon. One of them is very ill, I cannot tell which of them. The other is going to make a decision that could result in her end…."

"But you said the Sheriff and Guy of Gisborne?" The Scribe pointed out.

"You fool!" The witch spat "If the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn die – what will it matter to them? But, you cannot know. How deeply the Sheriff loves Lady Rhiannon. And how Guy loves his Lady Meridwyn. If they die, we are all doomed." She announced.

"Whatever do you mean, Madam?" Lady Margaret asked.

"If the ladies die, the Sheriff and his cousin will be tormented and enraged all the rest of their days. They will return to their old ways. Alas, this town will submit to tyranny once again." Mortianna recited in a quiet voice. The group gathered around her heard her words clearly, notwithstanding.

"Send us in their direction, Madam." The taller of the two guards spoke. "We can assist the Sheriff and his Deputy!"

"It doesn't matter." She said as she gazed into the cup, holding it closer, than bringing it further away from her before she set it back on the table. "It's out of our hands." She looked up then, and scanned the faces of the group assembled before her. "I didn't say they wouldn't be found. They might still be found. But even if the Sheriff and Guy find them today, it may still be too late." Their faces registered fear as she continued. "The course has already been charted. Their fates lie with the Gods."

Rhiannon sat in a chair, her hands bound behind her. Meridwyn lay on the floor a few feet away from her. She took in her surroundings. The room was dark. Quite large and chill. A wood stove was approximately six feet in front of her but there wasn't much of a fire left burning. The glowing embers taunted of the warmth it once provided. She wasn't afraid. This time she knew her surroundings, and how she got here. But once she arrived here the rags that covered her mouth were removed. A cloth was held in front of her face. She remembered the smell of something sweet, then blackness. She was poisoned. Her head ached but she was relieved she was no longer gagged. She didn't know where her captor was, but she had to try to wake Meridwyn. She lightly tapped the floor with her heels hoping her friend would hear it.

"Meridwyn!" she called after her. She shuffled her chair along with her feet inching it toward Meridwyn, who lay slumped on the floor. At least she was breathing, but she was so pale!

"Meridwyn! God be damned – wake up or you shall die! You must! Meridwyn!" she cried.

She heard a noise then. Footsteps, they were coming closer. The sound of the footsteps almost as loud as her heartbeat. She was certain he could hear her heartbeat, that's why he was coming for her.

"Oh, Meridwyn." She sighed as she shuffled the chair back to the original position, then sat still waiting for him. Again.

The Fallen Knight with his familiar tan coloured hood entered the room. He walked toward Rhiannon and circled her.

"Remarkable." He finally said. "Looking at you, why, you could never ever tell!" Her once pregnant belly was now as if she'd never borne a child.

"Tell what?" she asked without looking up at him.

"You do not remember?" he hissed

"Remember what?" she asked, finally looking up at the loathed creature before her.

The madman clapped his hands together and laughed. "You don't remember? That's even sweeter than my plans for the Sheriff! The fact that you do not remember it! Oh, this is a gift indeed!" he shouted in glee.

She rolled her eyes, tired of the madman's riddles. "I'm sure I do not know what you're speaking of!" she said exasperated.

The Fallen Knight leaned in close to her. "Let's just say that, the last time you had the pleasure of my company – all those months you felt miserable? You do recall? Well, it was not because of me. It was because of the Sheriff of Nottingham! But who am I to spoil it? If you do not remember, I shall never tell!" he laughed.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head in confusion. If she could only work her hands out of the ropes that bound them. She knew the dagger was still there in the pocket of her gown. She could feel the weight of it through the fabric against her thigh.

The madman turned and walked toward Meridwyn. He knelt beside her and ran his hand down the length of her fiery tresses, and trailed his fingers slowly over shoulders, and down her bosom. "You got away from me. Twice!" he said. "Ahh, but you're here now."

"Leave her alone!" Rhiannon implored.

"Silence!" he shouted back at her. He looked upon Lady Meridwyn again. "We're together – at last. I was coming for you, but you landed straight on my path! It was to be. Dear Meridwyn…" he sighed.

"How do you know her name?!" Rhiannon shouted. Had he been following her friend? Oh this was vile! How much more did he know about them? He knew about the Sheriff. And something else, that even she could not remember. But – what?

"You little whore!" he hissed as he got up and spun around to face her. "Silence! You may speak when directed to." He looked down upon Meridwyn and said "I shall return."

As he left, Rhiannon looked over at Meridwyn. She was working hard to break free of the bindings, and getting close to freeing her hands.

"Who is he, Meridwyn?" she asked, knowing it was futile. "You must know him!" She had to get free from the ropes. And when she did, the next time that vile creature came in here and touched her friend that way, she was going to let him know that he picked the wrong maidens to play with!

The woman had just put her infant down for a nap. It was a good day for baking. She'd been promising her husband to make her special bread, his favourite. It was a sweet bread made with currents and cinnamon among other spices. She organized the dry ingredients on the wooden table before her. Her husband came in from outside and found her working in the kitchen.

"There are guards outside." He said to her

"Guards?" she exclaimed. "From where?"

"They're not from around here, that I can assure you."

"Are they coming here do you think?"

"I don't know, dearest." He replied "But if they come here, I will speak to them. Where is the baby?"

"Upstairs. Asleep in the nursery." She answered as she wiped the flour off her apron. Her husband peered out the window through the curtains.

"They're coming to the door." He said.

"Robert!" she cried

"It's alright, my love. Hush. We haven't done anything wrong. Maybe they are looking for someone?" He was interrupted by a firm knock on the front door. They both went to the door. The man opened it. On the doorstep were two guards dressed in garments and armour he'd never seen. They were not local. One was tall with reddish hair and a beard, and kind blue eyes. The other was shorter in stature and fair.

"Good day, sir." The taller red haired man spoke. "I am Duke Farnsworth. The Lead Investigator for the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Yes?" the man replied. He was tall with dark brown hair, and blue green eyes. Familiar eyes. What was it about him? The Duke wondered.

"We are looking for an infant."

The woman looked down, her husband kept his gaze. Though the Duke thought he detected a change in the man's face. A subtle shadow that crossed it.

"I've never been able to bring forth children." The woman suddenly spoke as she looked up into the Duke's kind blue eyes.

"Can you tell us about this infant?" the woman's husband asked.

"The child is approximately six weeks old. We are told it has dark curly hair and green eyes."

"The babe is missing?" the man asked.

"The child belongs to the Sheriff of Nottingham and his Lady. But the child was abducted from it's mother when she was held in an abandoned castle approximately thirty miles north east of here." Duke Farnsworth said.

"We haven't seen the infant." The man spoke.

"We'll be remaining in the area for a time. We're under orders from the Sheriff to continue our search. If you see this child, we implore you to bring the child's whereabouts to our attention."

"Of course."

"Good day, sir. Madam." Then the guards went on their way.

Once the door was closed, his wife voiced their fears in a hushed tone.

"Oh, Robert. We have the Sheriff of Nottingham's baby!" She began "I've heard about him, an evil man. Why, I heard he once threatened to cut a man's heart out with a spoon!" she exclaimed.

"I've heard from reliable sources he's changed, too." The Blacksmith said. "But, it doesn't matter, my love. We've been raising this child nearly two weeks. We're going to get found out. We must prepare to leave."

"Yes." She agreed as he embraced her. "We've waited too long. How can we give the child away now?"

"Yes, my love. We have." He said. "There's only one thing that would make me relinquish the baby back to the Sheriff. And the chances of that are one in a million. So there's no need to fret." He reassured his wife as he caressed her golden hair. She broke free and looked up at her handsome husband.

"And what would that be? What would make you give our child back to him?" she asked.

"If the Lady – the Sheriff's Lady that is, were my sister." He laughed. "You see, my love? Nothing to worry about. I mean, how preposterous would that be?"

"Yes. You're right. That would never happen from what you've told me of her." She paused a moment before she continued. "So, my love, we leave tomorrow?"

"I think that's what I love about you the most, dearest." He began. "You're quite clever. I never need to explain anything at length to you." He said as he kissed the top of her head.

"I know him, Mordrid." Duke Farnsworth suddenly spoke.

"What? That man you just spoke to? I'm told he is the town Blacksmith." The younger fair haired guard said.

"There's something about his face. Those eyes. He's familiar to me, but I don't know how?"

"Maybe he's worth keeping an eye on. Though he seemed noble to me." Mordrid offered.

"Perhaps. We're surveilling the area anyway. We're certain to run into him again."

"He could be lying."

"True." The Duke replied. "But they gave us no reason to search the premises. Still, we must be vigilant. The Sheriff demands it."


	19. Chapter 19

The Sheriff and Guy flew through the narrow paths of the forest on their spirited horses. Each of them a dark prince upon a black steed. Both men dressed in garbs of black leather studded in silver. The shiny metal that bedecked their coats caught the light and danced as they moved, what little light there was this misty rainy day. Both with the same purpose. They moved swiftly as they sought signs of their ladies whereabouts. It seemed to them they'd been traveling in circles the last few hours. The Sheriff slowed his horse. Guy followed his lead.

"We've been looking for hours, cousin." Guy finally spoke.

"We can't be far off the mark. They couldn't have gone too far from where we found the horses, and Lady Meridwyn's chain. He couldn't have gotten too far during that storm last night." The Sheriff said.

Guy looked around and spotted something in the distance. "What's that up ahead, sire?" Guy pointed to it.

The Sheriff paused to look where Guy was indicating. It looked like something in the distance behind some trees. He nodded to Guy and together they ventured to discover what it was they were seeing.

Fifteen minutes later they were near to a cabin. It appeared very dark inside from the windows in the front, but there was a horse secured to a tree nearby with a wagon behind it. The Sheriff dismounted and handed Guy the reins.

"Wait here." He instructed. "If he's in there, I don't want him to hear us."

The Sheriff walked toward the horse and surveyed the wagon. He peered inside. There was a woman's cape left in it. Black velvet with black satin lining. He'd seen it before. He picked it up and took it with him to show Guy.

"My Lady's cape." The Sheriff commented as he showed it to Guy. "They're definitely in there." He pointed to the cabin.

"What now? You have a plan?" Guy asked as they walked toward the cabin. Guy had already secured their horses close by where they wouldn't be spotted so easily.

"Oh, trust me. I'm thinking." The Sheriff began. As they passed the wagon he lay the cape there again. He would give it to her, after he killed him. "I don't know what excites me more? Seeing my Lady again. Or slowly killing that bastard." He Spat.

_________________________________________________________

He was drunk and beginning to lose what little amount of remaining sanity he had left in him. The Sheriff no doubt would be pursuing him. What was he thinking wasting time coming to this cabin with Meridwyn and that other little wench? The fiery beauty who got away was with him at last. But he'd have to cut his amusement time short for now, because he knew that the Sheriff was likely spending more time riding than wasting his time napping. Ah, he knew the Sheriff well enough to know one thing about him. He hated the Sheriff with every cell in his body, but he knew the Sheriff was intelligent. The Good Sheriff would know straight away when he read the Fallen Knight's last scroll that he'd better head back to Nottingham – fast.

Which worked fine - when he penned the scroll. By all calculations that was going to work perfectly in his favour. How was he to know those two stupid women would be daft enough to journey on horses and practically land straight in his lap? At the time he was giddy with excitement. Now he realized this unexpected gift could be his ruin. He'd better be careful and not let his guard down. He mustn't allow himself to become distracted.

Still, the beauty of it. He couldn't wait to throw this one in the Sheriff's face. How his sweet lovely lady and his cousin's lover practically rode their horses straight to him! He could just picture the scene in his mind. What he would tell the Sheriff – when they finally came face to face:

"Oh, I'm sorry Sheriff. Why, I didn't intend to kill your lady until next week when I arrived at your castle. But a funny thing happened. She got on a horse and rode all this way directly into my path! - Whoops."

The Fallen Knight broke out into maniacal laughter. He was so drunk that he couldn't control the outburst of cackling and self congratulation. Rhiannon could hear him in the cold darkened room she was in. The sound of him was literally starting to make her feel sick.

She looked over at Meridwyn. Meridwyn lay in the same position as several hours earlier. Her breathing was regular, but her colour was pallid. Rhiannon had quietly looked around the room earlier, trying to find blankets or linens. She knew she'd have to remain on guard, and find a place to hide it if she heard the madman coming. But she'd do it. For Meridwyn. Alas, there were none to be found. The only furniture in the room was the chair she sat upon. Thus, there were no luxuries available beyond that. Not without leaving the room and risking running into him. Unprepared. No. She was going to stick with her plan.

Ever since she'd broken free of the bindings, she'd been quietly going over to check on Meridwyn and try to wake her. Meridwyn had some cuts and contusions, but she wouldn't be able to tell if anything was broken until she woke up. So far she'd been unsuccessful at waking her. Rhiannon wanted to approach her now, but she had a strong feeling he'd be coming back soon. It certainly didn't sound like he was going to fall asleep.

"Meridwyn." She called. "Please wake up." She still wondered how it was he knew Meridwyn's name. Every time she thought she was getting close to the answer, it eluded her.

She wondered if the Sheriff knew how close this man was to Nottingham. Was the Sheriff still stationed several miles north of here looking for the madman? Or was he in fact headed in the right direction? The one where he would by chance find them in time? Why was she relying on that fantasy? Her lover was clever, but how would he even know? She was going to have to rely on her own wit to get her out of this situation.

There they were again. His footsteps were approaching. Though, this time they were heavy, sometimes shuffling. Oh, splendid. Now I must deal with a drunk, vile madman, she thought.

He entered in the room. She didn't bother to acknowledge him. She maintained her position on the chair, with her hands behind her as they were the last time he was here. Except the last time, they were tied together.

"Very good." He said as he came closer to them. He looked upon Rhiannon "You're not speaking out of turn for once. That's a good little girl. We'll need to be on our way soon, and I'm going to need you to shut up." He said to Rhiannon.

He walked over to Meridwyn and knelt beside her. "I wish we could remain here, but we must be on our way. And I don't want any interruptions for what I've got in store for you."

Why was he so familiar with Meridwyn? Rhiannon thought. However did he know her? It was haunting her.

"Three years I've waited….and now you're here." He said to Meridwyn.

Meridwyn's voice suddenly echoed in Rhiannon's mind in flashes of memory: _"But, strangely, I have not seen him in years. Oh my, how long now? Three I think. Yes, three years!"_ Rhiannon suddenly remembered their conversation in the gardens, the day that Meridwyn was attempting to calm Rhiannon when she was cross with Lady Margaret. Somehow, Meridwyn ending up telling her of a former lover. What was his name?

The madman was lightly stroking Meridwyn's hair. Rhiannon had another flash: _"He was feisty, yet tender at the same time."_ Meridwyn's voice echoed again in her mind. Rhiannon knew it. This man had to be him. It was beginning to make sense! She didn't know why it was so important to her to remember it, but she wished she could recall the name Meridwyn gave. She was angry with herself. Who cares what his name is?

"_He just disappeared, all of a sudden….just like that!" _Rhiannon remembered Meridwyn startling her when she snapped her fingers then.

"You're so quiet over there, it's starting to get on my blessed nerves!" the madman suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. He got up and walked toward her. She rubbed her palms together nervously behind her back. He stopped a few feet in front of her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "You've never been at a loss for words before." He came closer and bent down to meet her face. "I can practically see the wheels turning in your brain, wench. You're trying to figure your way out of this. But it's not going to work. So don't even try!" he admonished.

Rhiannon looked over at Meridwyn. She was moving slightly! Oh, why now? Oh God Meridwyn, don't awake now! Suddenly she felt his rough leather glove upon her chin – "Are you even listening to me?!" he demanded as he forced her to look at him.

"Yes, I heard you." Rhiannon replied weakly as she looked at him. Upon that hidden face in the hood. Then, another flash of memory: _"I really thought he loved me you know. I hope nothing happened to him." – "Who?" _ Rhiannon thought as she heard her own voice ask Meridwyn that day. Who? And there it was: _"Will. Will Scarlett." _She heard Meridwyn say in her memories. And then it kept playing over and over in her mind, relentlessly until –

"I heard you, Will Scarlett." Her own voice called out to him. Driven by an unknown force inside of her, beyond her control.

"What did you say to me?" He said slowly, enraged.

"I said: I heard you, Will Scarlett." Rhiannon replied evenly. Unmoving. Come closer, she willed him. Just a little closer. You sick, evil, loathsome creature.

______________________________________________________________________

"I can't see anything through the windows, sire." Guy remarked. "Maybe he's holding them somewhere else?"

"No. There's no where else around here. Rhiannon and Meridwyn must be somewhere in that cabin." The Sheriff said. "We have to find a way in without being detected. I'd like to take him by surprise. Unnecessary, I know. But damn – it will feel good." He gave a satisfied grin.

"If we could figure out where in the cabin he is right now?" Guy said.

The Sheriff walked up closer to the cabin. Guy followed him. He was scanning the area around it. "Let's cover the perimeter of the cabin. We're looking for entrances and any signs of their location within." The Sheriff directed.

The Sheriff walked around the north side of it to get to the back. He'd found two entrances so far. One at the front, and another at the back of the cabin. There was a window on the far side of the back door. He crouched low near to it. He thought he could hear voices. Guy came from around the other side to meet him.

"I think they're in there." The Sheriff said.

"I've only found two entranceways." Guy offered.

"Yes, maybe we should enter through the front." The Sheriff suggested.

The Fallen Knight was incredulous. "And just how did you arrive at that conclusion?" he demanded of Rhiannon.

"It doesn't matter. I know who you are." Rhiannon announced.

"Nobody knew." He said evenly.

"Well, she remembered you." Rhiannon said, pointing over to Meridwyn.

He was stunned. The little wench was lying. He bent down and got very close to her and said "You're doing it again. You'd best keep quiet. What? Do you think your Sheriff is going to save you?" He laughed.

She didn't respond.

"Did I ever tell you about the Sheriff?" the madman said. "Hmm, where to begin?" he straightened up and started to pace in front of her. "First he killed my father. Accused him of being a devil worshipper, which he was not. I won't even begin to describe what he did to my father's servant, Duncan. Let's just say – he took Duncan's sight. I had one brother. The Sheriff killed him too. First he threatened to cut my brother's heart out with a spoon, but alas, he used the sword instead."

"Stop!" Rhiannon cried, squeezing her eyes closed, as if it would block out the sound of his voice.

"You will listen!" he hissed as he leaned in to her. Then he went back to pacing. "Now, my brother did try to help when the fire happened. You see, the Sheriff asked his hedgeman that day to string me up with the others. But, there was no room, no nooses left. So I was tied to a barrel, that unbeknownst to the Sheriff was filled with an explosive black powder." He paused and looked at her. "Pretty ingenious of my brother's companion to come up with – it was brilliant! The plan was to shoot fiery arrows at the barrels which we had stationed throughout the courtyard. However, Azeem didn't see me there – crouched low to that one, and well – POOF!"

"Why are you telling me this?" Rhiannon asked. She didn't want to hear this.

"Silence! You will listen. Obviously nobody ever told you about the real Sheriff of Nottingham." He grabbed his flask of wine out of his pocket and took a swig. "So now, you see, my face was on fire. Imagine how that would feel!" he shouted. Then he went and stood near Meridwyn.

"You see now? He took everything, wench. Everything from me! My father. My brother – well, that was after he took my face. And he pretty well drove Meridwyn from me then too."

"She told me you disappeared." Rhiannon said.

"Did I ask for your input?" he shouted. He took another generous swig from his flask. "Okay. That's enough small talk. But there's your history lesson for you. Now you know more - about your darling Sheriff of Nottingham."

She had to get out of here, but what about Meridwyn? She'd better think fast how she was going to execute her plan. He was behaving erratically. Unpredictable. He glanced down at Meridwyn, then decided he'd get to her later. He walked closer to Rhiannon. She felt her heartbeat begin to race, and her palms go damp. She worried she wouldn't be able to hold onto it much longer. She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.

His gloved hand was upon her shoulder, then lifting her chin up. "I never did finish with you…." He taunted.

He moved in closer then, and ran his hand over her décolleté. Rhiannon took a deep breath. When he brought his hooded face in close to hers and inched it around to her neck she brought her right hand around swiftly, and thrust the Sheriff's dagger into his left flank, before pulling it out of him.

"AAAAH!!" He yelled out and staggered backwards. "You little whore!" he shouted. He felt hot seering pain. He grabbed the sanguinous wound and held it, trying to shuffle toward her. Rhiannon bolted from the chair, and headed for the doorway ahead. She looked back. The madman was slumping to the chair. Good. She was going to run out of the front door to get her cape out of the wagon. She could use it as a blanket for Meridwyn and get her out of there. She hoped the wagon was close by. Because once they arrived here she was poisoned. He could have easily moved the horse and cart. She ran, not knowing the loathsome creature was following her.

Meridwyn was stirring on the floor. She could hear a lot of noise, but didn't know where she was, or how to make her eyes focus.

The Sheriff and Guy heard the commotion inside. Their plans had just changed and they broke through the back door. They were immediately in a large dark room with one lone chair and a woodstove within. Meridwyn was on the floor, but there was no sign of Rhiannon or the outlaw they were after.

Guy ran over to Meridwyn. She was trying to speak but couldn't make the words form. He kissed her forehead, and took off his cloak. Then he placed it over her to warm her. He turned to the Sheriff.

"I'll search the other rooms, cousin."

"Yes, do it. Then we're going to have to make haste." The Sheriff instructed. He couldn't leave Meridwyn yet, not until Guy returned, so he walked about the room investigating the scene with his arms folded.

Rhiannon found her cape draped over the wagon behind the madman's horse. She peered over the wagon, she could see the man had just gotten out of the front door. He was too busy holding his wound and maintaining his footing to notice her. She lay low to the ground, and ran through the trees and brush around the cabin toward the back.

Meridwyn started to moan. The Sheriff turned to look at her. She opened her eyes. He walked over to her and knelt beside her.

"Lady Meridwyn, you're safe now." He reassured. "It will be alright." Then, just as he was about to tell her that Guy would be right back, she looked at him and reached up to his face.

"Oh, it's you!" she smiled. Then she arose as she pulled the Sheriff down towards her, and surprised him with a kiss.

Rhiannon came through the back door. She stood there looking at the scene before her. Frozen. Stunned.

The Sheriff broke free. Meridwyn fell back to the floor slipping back into unconsciousness. He turned toward the door, he'd heard a noise. His eyes lit up.

"My Lady." He smiled at Rhiannon, who was staring at him.

"NO!" she said softly, shaking her head. Then she bolted out of the door and ran. She headed for the front of the cabin again, quickly putting on her cape. She hoped the madman was no where near his horse, because she was going to need it.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff called after her. He'd suddenly forgotten his duty to stay with Meridwyn. Damn the woman! Was she trying to get herself killed? He ran through the door and went around the cabin.

Rhiannon was trying to unhitch the wagon from the horse about 30 yards ahead. He had to go up a slight incline to get to her, but the ground was wet and difficult to get a sure footing. Finally he made it to the front of the cabin.

"My Lady! Wait!" he called to her.

She was already upon the horse. She looked at him briefly from a distance, then she sent the horse into a gallop.

"Damn!" he shouted in frustration.


	20. Chapter 20

Quickly, he scanned the area for his horse. He found it several feet away, along with Guy's horse secured to some trees. Instinct was overriding his need to take care of the Fallen Knight. He had to get to her!

"Cousin! Watch Out!" Guy called from the front of the cabin. The Sheriff turned – the Fallen Knight was twenty or so feet away preparing to shoot an arrow at him. It looked like he was bleeding from his left side. Did Guy do that?

The Fallen Knight started to run. The Sheriff could see the man wasn't going to get very far, but he called out to Guy: "After him!"

Guy was already on the move. He ran up to the Fallen Knight and tackled him. The Fallen Knight fell to the ground. The Sheriff ran ahead to confront the insect. He had plenty to say to him. Finally he was standing over him. He reached down and pulled the hood off his face.

His face was hideously scarred. It had been badly burned. There was something about him. The Sheriff thought he recognized something in him. What was it? His eyes. Those high cheekbones. His hair. He'd been up close and personal to it once before. Yes. Three years ago. When the man was the Sheriff's prisoner! Right after the siege in Sherwood Forest. So, he said the same thing he said to him days later in the courtyard:

"Oh. It's you again. The turncoat." He spat

"My Lord. Or should I say – my Good Sheriff of Nottingham?"

"Yes. Sure. Debauched and sought by maids, no less." The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "Spare me your idiotic diatribe." He hissed as he placed his boot on the man's abdomen. "So what made you up the stakes from thievery to murder?" He inquired with his left eyebrow up in the air.

"You should know." The Fallen Knight replied in a gravelly voice.

"No. I'm sure I don't."

"Take a look at my face, you bastard!" What did he have to lose now? The Fallen Knight could care less.

"And what the hell does that have to do with it?" The Sheriff demanded.

"It burned – because of you."

"Enough!" He yelled.

"He's drunk." Guy remarked, disgusted.

"No doubt, cousin." He agreed. "Must've happened before you stabbed him. But, thanks for leaving a piece of him for me!"

"I didn't do that to him, cousin." Guy replied shaking his head.

"What?" He looked from Guy, then down upon the face of the Fallen Knight. "Oh God. Don't tell me you did that to yourself? Why am I not surprised? You pathetic… weak…" he was cut off.

"You don't give her any credit do you?" The Fallen Knight interrupted suddenly.

"What?" the Sheriff asked.

"Your lady. Though, I prefer to call her your whore…"

The Sheriff responded by pressing his boot firmly into him, gradually increasing the pressure. Oblivious to the increase in sanguine exudate it caused.

"She did this!" the man cried out in pain. "Your lady stabbed me!"

The Sheriff lifted his boot from him.

"Tie him up." He instructed Guy. He'd had it with him. He was wasting his time here. He needed to start after Rhiannon.

"But, cousin?" Guy asked.

"Do it!" the Sheriff barked in frustration.

"You disappoint me, my good Sheriff." The Fallen Knight taunted, as the blood continued oozing from his knife wound.

"Cover that wound of his too." The Sheriff directed Guy.

"What? Cousin? You want me to help him now?!" Guy was incredulous.

The Sheriff walked over to Guy and took him aside. "You're not getting it, cousin." He lowered his voice. "This little insect might be the only one who knows where the child is!"

Guy nodded and proceeded with the Sheriff's directives. The Sheriff started walking toward his horse.

"Cousin?" Guy called.

"Throw him in that wagon." The Sheriff called back. "If I'm not back here by dusk, start on your way to Nottingham and bring him with you. Take him to the dungeon. Instruct the guards to restrain him, but not to touch him in the meantime. He's mine!"

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She had traveled quite a distance, not really certain which direction. She was busily focusing on where she was heading. Trying to suppress the memory. That visual jolt to reality, which was presented to her, when she went in through the back door of the cabin. She didn't know how her lover got there. When she was outside of the cabin retrieving her cape from the wagon, she didn't see his horse anywhere in the area. So, the last thing she expected to witness when she went through the door for her friend, was to see him there. That was surprising enough. But, to catch him kissing Meridwyn? And then, his audacity at looking at her smiling and saying "My Lady.." as if he'd done nothing wrong. What? Did he think Meridwyn was she in the dark? Obviously not, because after kissing Meridwyn, he looked to her and acknowledged her. Am I just one of many? She thought. What was he really doing to occupy his time all those months I was gone? What am I to believe?

Her mind was racing with scattered thoughts. The scenery was flying by her, racing along with the images that were flashing in her mind, almost blending into one. She was growing very tired. She didn't know if the madman managed an escape. Maybe he was following? After all, her Sheriff was too busy comforting Meridwyn. She never saw anyone else with the Sheriff. Maybe this Gisborne man was still several miles north with the rest of the Sheriff's men. If there is a Guy Gisborne. Maybe he was invented by Meridwyn. Funny, she never heard of the man who was like a brother to the Sheriff, until Meridwyn mentioned him the day they first spoke. Which was days after she was back in Nottingham following her capture. Why didn't the Sheriff ever mention his cousin, Guy Gisborne?

She didn't know where she was, but the landscape was beginning to change. She'd been riding quite awhile, but she didn't know how long. It looked like it was nearing dusk. Up ahead she was approaching a valley. She slowed the horse to a halt, dismounted, and walked with it holding the reins. The path was getting narrow. There were large ferns and plants she hadn't seen that were cropping up around her. She found a birch tree to secure the horse. She walked toward the ridge of the hill she was on. Ahead, down in the valley below was a body of water with a waterfall that flowed into it. She made her way down the steep hill toward the water.

Finally she was at the bottom. She made her way over to the edge of the water, and placed her cape over a large rock nearby. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. She lay on the sandy ground on the water's edge to look up at the sky. The last shreds of orange pink light streaked across the sky as the sun was setting on the horizon. She felt the water pool around her skirts, but she was too tired to care. The sand was soft. She lay there, and listened to the water from the waterfall nearby, felt the water wash up under her supine body, and the wind caress her skin. It soon lulled her into a sleep.

She awoke much later. It was very dark. She opened her eyes. Her clothing was wet from lying on the water's edge. Looking to the sky she could make out a few stars glimmering as the clouds rolled past. She sat up. She felt dizzy and weak. Her mind was clouded. She didn't remember when she got here. She vaguely remembered riding her horse. Where was Meridwyn? Where was that madman? She remembered being troubled by something earlier but now it eluded her. She turned toward the waterfall. It beckoned her.

She stood and faced the waterfall. Suddenly, even though her clothes were wet, she felt very warm. And weak. The water would help. So, in her altered state of mind, she walked toward it. What would it matter to stand inside of it?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He wasn't sure anymore if he was headed in the right direction. He went the same way she did when she left, but she could be anywhere by now. It was very dark. Guy would be on his way back to Nottingham with Meridwyn, and the Fallen Knight. He hoped that he and Rhiannon would be making their way there soon, as well. It was very late, but he had no intention of stopping. She was riding alone in the dark with no sense of direction. Too many dangers were present. He had to find her.

He was just as surprised as anyone when Meridwyn kissed him. He was certain Meridwyn didn't realize what she was doing. She fell unconscious after that. He wished his lady had given him the opportunity to explain what happened, before she reached a hasty conclusion and ventured alone on a horse.

He was approaching high ground, a ridge that lead down into a valley where there was a waterfall that flowed into a small lake. He kept going a little way, prepared to take another direction, when he spotted the horse secured to a birch tree. He found another near to it to secure his.

Moments later he was standing at the ridge looking down, desperately trying to adjust his vision in the dark. He thought he could see a figure standing in the waterfall. He told himself he was seeing things. The idea was absurd. If that was Lady Rhiannon down there, what in heaven's name was she doing standing in a waterfall?

Poison. The answer came to him immediately. Yes. It happened before. Cursing the dark, he made his way to a narrow path that would lead down into the valley.

The water felt soft and rhythmic on her skin. Washing away all her cares. By this time, her bodice was removed, she'd pushed it down to her waist. She felt so warm. She couldn't get enough of the cool water on her skin. She wanted to keep standing there. She was weak, yet oddly exhilarated. Though at times she thought she saw things, and heard voices. Sometimes they frightened her. Why did she feel so strange? Strange, yet carefee all in the same moment.

The Sheriff was down in the valley. He walked along the edge of the water and nearly stumbled over a large rock. Draped over the rock was Rhiannon's black velvet cape. He looked toward the waterfall. He could see more clearly. That must be her standing in the waterfall. He removed his cloak, coat, and tunic, and proceeded toward her. She was facing the opposite direction, her back to him.

"Rhiannon…" he called out to her.

There were those voices again. Make them go away, she willed the water falling upon her and all around her. Make them disappear. She felt so weak.

"My Lady…" he spoke, less than three feet behind her now.

"Make him disappear…" she whispered, as she willed the waterfall. She was frightened, but uncertain why.

"I'm not about to disappear." He said. He reached for her shoulder. She tensed but turned around to face him.

She tried to adjust her eyesight in the dark, through the flowing water. It looked like….was she dreaming?

"My Lord." She whispered. She remembered something. She'd been angry with him for some reason earlier. But now, she couldn't remember why. He came closer until she could feel his heat near to her skin.

"A rather odd time of day to take a bath, my love." He said with a smile.

"I….needed….cool…..water…" she managed in a whisper. Everything around her began to spin. She felt so light. She stared to slump in the water, but he quickly caught her and held her tightly to him.

"Rhiannon, don't do that to me again…." He began.

"Do what?" she whispered.

"Leave me like that."

"I never left you." She whispered weakly.

He was puzzled. He held her out from him a little to see her face better. Her eyes were fluttering. The muscles in her face were slack. She didn't remember.

"My Lady." He whispered as he looked upon her. She opened her eyes then and looked at him. Then she put her arms about his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

She didn't know why she'd been angry with him before, but she knew that she'd missed him. Her longing for him overpowered her anger. Clearly, it couldn't have been important. His lips were warm upon hers. She felt an increase in the heat of her body, more than what she was already experiencing.

"I missed you so much." She whispered to him.

"I missed you too." He said as he kissed her neck. He stopped and looked at her. "No more venturing off by yourself on horses. Stay with me, Rhiannon. Let's go home."

"Home." She whispered. "There is no one there…."

"I'm talking about the castle, my lady. You shall have me. Always." He reassured her.

"I won't be alone anymore?" she asked.

"No, my lady." He said. He was glad he found her in time. She was not herself. It was a miracle she knew who he was. So confused, and obviously unwell.

"Come, my lady." He said.

"No. I want to stay here. The water is….so….cool…" she whispered. She closed her eyes and pressed her body into him. He wanted her, desperately. But he couldn't. It was clear to him, she had no idea what made her run away from him when he saw her at the cabin.

"Oh, my Lady. It's okay. You're safe. He can never hurt you again."

"Where is Meridwyn?" she asked.

"She's on her way back home. To Nottingham Castle, with Guy."

"Guy?" she asked weakly.

"Yes. My cousin, Guy. He's my Deputy as well. Don't worry, my love." He reassured as he kissed her head and stroked her hair. It felt so good to hold her again.

"I'm glad…you're here.." she whispered. She began to slide out of his grasp, down into the water. His response was rapid. He caught her quickly and lifter her in his arms. Her skin felt very warm, despite standing in the cool water. He carried her over to a place between the lake and the trees. Then he went to the spot nearby where her cape, and his outer garments and tunic were and brought them to where she lay. He spread her cape on the ground, placed her upon it, and quickly removed her soaked gown. Then he dressed her in his tunic and covered her with his cloak.

"Rhiannon." He said as he knelt beside her.

She mumbled an unintelligible response.

"When was the last time you took some water to drink?" He wondered if she was a little dehydrated. He also thought it might help to purge whatever poison may be circulating in her body.

"I don't know…." She muttered.

The Sheriff reached beside him to grab his flask of water out of his coat pocket. He unscrewed the cap then placed it to her lips. She took a little, then closed her eyes. He laid down beside her and held her to him. She was starting to shiver. He stroked her hair and lightly kissed her neck.

"My Lady." He said. "Stay with me…"

"I am." She replied.

"I need you to be strong, Rhiannon." He all but pleaded. He didn't want her to enter into that interminable slumber again. They still had some distance to cover before she was safe at the castle. He tried to offer her some more of the water.

"Drink." He instructed.

"No…no. I'm so… sleepy." She muttered.

"Do it!" He commanded. And she responded, finally. She took a greater measure of water this time, barely opening her eyes.

She found it too difficult to open her eyes. Her eyelids were so heavy. But she knew he was there with her. Her dark prince. Protecting her. Then, she opened her eyes and said something that surprised him.

"You really do love me."

"Of course I do, Rhiannon." He replied. "Why? Why would you think otherwise?"

"Say it." She whispered.

"I just did."

"No you didn't." she challenged him. "Say it to me."

He leaned on his elbow and looked down upon her.

"My Lady, open your eyes. Look at me." He ordered.

She obeyed. She tried to focus. His face was so close to hers. His serious hazel eyes were burning into hers, urging her to believe his words.

"My Lady Rhiannon, know this. I've never loved anyone, until you." He said, never breaking eye contact.

"I love you, My Lord." She whispered faintly.

"I know, my Lady. Do not doubt what I say to you now. The only woman whose ever heard those words uttered from my lips, is you."

Lady Rhiannon smiled serenely, as she tried to look into his eyes. She wanted so desperately to remain awake. It had been too long since they'd been together. But she was so incredibly fatigued. She placed her soft hand on his face, caressing him. Running her fingers over his cheek, and his lips. Then she smiled and said:

"My love, I promise I shall make it up to you." She whispered, and her eyelids began to grow heavy again. "Forgive me. I'm so….tired."

"Alright, my love." He said, finally relenting. He kissed her, then held her close, making certain she was adequately covered by the warm cloak.

She was sound asleep within seconds. He lay there for awhile, watching her sleep. Except for wondering about his child he'd never met, he realized he'd never been this happy in his life. Watching her turned toward him, her face registered pure calm and beauty. Her skin was radiant, even in the dark. He lightly caressed her hair, and ran his hand down over her shoulder and the length of her slender arm. She was so beautiful. She was his. Even dressed in his tunic she looked irresistible. He hoped, by some miracle, that Duke Farnsworth would find his child. He didn't want to have to leave her again for a very long time.

Curses on that hooded viper and his relentless games! Every time he and Lady Rhiannon were given any time to spend with one another, the Fallen Knight always managed to get in the way and ruin everything. The more he thought about it, the more he started to feel the old familiar feeling of rage boiling up inside of him. He still planned to channel some of that rage towards the outlaw when he was finally ready to be finished with him. The Sheriff hoped that Lady Rhiannon would never have to bare witness to it though. The last thing he ever intended to do was to frighten her. She'd never seen him when he was overcome with anger. He never wanted to let her down. He couldn't bare to disappoint her.

"Sleep, my angel." He sighed as he looked upon her lovely face. Her perfect rosebud full lips. Her shiny sable hair. Her milky skin.

He couldn't believe one woman, and only one, could make him feel the way she made him feel. He never thought it possible. Not once in his entire life did he ever aspire to be a husband, or a father. And if all went well, he would be both. He'd had many goals, but none were as innate or basic as that of all of his comrades, even his cousin, Guy. He finally understood it, what it was all about. What his life meant.

"I'm drowning in your glory, my lovely Lady Nottingham." He whispered as he held her. He was so content, that for the first time in weeks, he felt his body begin to relax. Feeling her warmth, her breath gently caress his face, and the sound of the waterfall close by, was like a lullaby to his soul. He slept soundly.


	21. Chapter 21

His deep sleep only lasted an hour when he was jolted awake. An automatic response as he felt a hand reaching out and touching his coin pouch which was still fastened about his waist. A habit he sometimes fell into when he was overtired. As his hand reached reflexively to grab his sword, her hand slid under the base of the pouch to touch him more intimately over his trousers. He felt her warm breath on his face then his right earlobe as she brushed it with her lips and whispered: 'Who did you think it was?"

"My Lady…." He whispered. In the blink of an eye he released the handle of his sword from his grasp and replaced it with the warmth of her silky skin. Reaching from below the hemline of his tunic, which was now occupying her body, sliding his hand slowly upward, he pushed the fabric along until he cupped her left breast. His mouth was on hers right away in a languid fevered kiss as he tasted her with his tongue. She moaned a response. Then he stopped and leaned on his elbow, slightly breathless, and looked down upon her and said: "My Lady, it was not too long ago you were not yourself. Perhaps it would be better if you continued to rest." It appeased his conscious to utter the words, but he was lying to her, every single word of his suggestion in the second sentence. He prayed she wouldn't obey him.

"No, my Lord. I do not wish to rest. Not now." She looked up into his eyes and breathed "Do with me what you will and I shall submit."

"Rhiannon…" he whispered slowly. "My beautiful lady." he said as he kissed her. "I want to dive into your ocean."

"Oh my Lord.." she whispered. She caressed his face. "Take me away…"

"Where my love?" he smiled.

"To the places far reaching and beyond joy. When I'm with you, you help me to forget."

"Your past?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes. Sometimes, yes." She whispered.

"My angel." He began. "I plan to take You - to eternity." He whispered slowly, deliberately. He continued to kiss her and lightly run his hand down her hair, her shoulder, and back to her breast. A soft caress barely applied to her skin. She shivered.

"My love, more…" she whispered.

He responded with sudden pressure and a hungry kiss. She placed her fingers over his lips then ran them lightly downward over his bearded chin, his neck, his smooth muscled chest, and continued down into his depths until she was as intimate with him as a woman could get. She reached under his waistband and touched him. Then she stopped. She stayed that way until he looked at her. She knew he would. The puzzled stare came within seconds.

"I need you to do something for me, my Lord." She said softly.

"Yes, my lady. What is it?"

"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I say you can."

He raised his left eyebrow as he looked at her, questioning in a glance.

"Something just for you. A surprise." She said.

He relented and felt her mouth slowly exploring his. Then she stopped and lightly let her lips and tongue travel down his neck, and chest as she followed with her touch. She stopped then took a hold of him then moved her hand away. Oh this was torture!

"My Lady…" he breathed still keeping his eyes closed. After a moment he felt something soft, warm, wet. Flickering, fluttering, stroking, then enclosing him. He tried to resist, but he thought he would die! He knew this wasn't right, but he uttered her name. He felt it all at once. Part joy. Part anger. It was killing him not to look at her. This was too unlike her. If he could look at her, he wouldn't have to do what he was about to. Finally, she stopped, and said he could open his eyes, that he could do what he wanted. His eyes flew open. He grabbed her arms over her head and quickly pushed her backward to the ground, gently yet forcefully. He loved every second of it but he needed to know. His look changed in a flash, with the steeliness in his eyes. Suddenly he didn't look overcome with desire anymore. Instead, she thought she detected – displeasure? Or was he playing?

"Where did you learn that?!" he growled as he bore into her eyes with his.

"My Lord?"

"Was I not your first?" he whispered huskily. "Tell me, where did you learn that?"

In her confusion she felt a bitter tear coming. She wouldn't let him see it. Not now of all times.

"Nobody taught me, if that's what you're inferring. I thought it up in my head. I thought it would please you." She said. He confused her again by kissing her. "Are you sure?" he whispered as he began to devour her.

"Very sure." She replied softly. "Why?"

"Not now…"

"Why?" she demanded.

He stopped and looked at her. For the first time he saw her anger. The fire burning in her eyes. It excited him yet here was the moment he dreaded. Now this was twice in half a day he let her down. He finally realized his mistake. Curses! Why did women have to be so complicated?

"My lady, I only know from what I've been told by some of my comrades, and uhm…this was performed on them by their … mistresses." He quickly reworded it, he was going to say consorts, but he knew that would be the end of his merry time without question. Except for the choice of noun everything he spoke was truth.

"Are you displeased?" she questioned.

"No, my lady. Forgive me. I had to know." He said. She gazed into his eyes. "My lady, where were we?..." he whispered as he kissed her slowly. Within moments he was on top of her, fulfilling her every need. Covering her in bliss as he entered her and injected his very soul into her.

They collapsed near dawn, exhausted and perfectly content.

When she awoke it was near midday. He was looking at her. This startled her because his face was so close to hers. In the bright light of day, he looked radiant. She'd never seen him illuminated like that before. He looked more like a king than a prince. Her heart skipped a beat. She made the sultry glance with her green eyes that made him hard for her all over again. He took a breath.

"My lady." He whispered.

"Mmmm. My lord."

"When is the day of your birth?"

"In the same month named for Julius Ceasar."

"I knew it. It my heart I knew it." He said without thinking.

"Pardon?" she asked him.

"I'm told people born in that month are…uh…never mind." He stopped himself. He was leading her to religious views. Which would come out if he kept speaking about sun and moon signs. Regarded as heresy. He didn't want to push it by possibly offending her views on God and the holy trinity. He still needed to constantly remind himself that he was one of few who didn't buy it.

"Why did you stop?" she asked him.

He reached out and caressed her neck, smiling. "In time my love. I just thought that, well, you're going to be my wife and there's some things we don't know about each…"

She couldn't hear him anymore. She looked into the Sheriff's eyes, but all she could see was her own reflection as she submitted to memory. She suddenly felt his hand replaced by the cold one in her memory. The one that was threatening her as the voice said: "Are you obtuse as well? Don't expect to live much longer after it is…"

After it is what? What is IT?

Then she remembered what he told her the last time, when he realized who she was after he grabbed her off her horse. "You've recovered well."

The hiss of his loathed voice in her ear as he said "All those months you felt miserable? Well, it wasn't because of me. It was because of the Sheriff!" and "If you do not remember, I shall never tell!" and the sound of his evil laughter.

The Sheriff knew he lost her somewhere in mid sentence when her eyes glazed over again.

"My Lady Rhiannon." He began. She wasn't listening. He began to gently shake her.

"Rhiannon!"

"Forgive me, my Lord." She said. "It's just that, oh. It doesn't matter." She let the words trail off.

"No." he said shaking his head. "Not this time. Tell me what you've been trying to tell me all these weeks. This isn't the first time you were somewhere else." He said as he kept his hands upon her shoulders.

"It's the same memory over and over. But it never answers my question." She said. "There's a piece of the puzzle missing. At least it feels like there is. But I cannot remember it. Every time the memory is within my grasp it quickly fades. It's elusiveness troubles and frustrates me."

"Did he hurt you?" he asked her directly.

"No." She didn't look at him.

"Honestly?" he pressed

She glanced up at him then looked away. "Absolutely not, my Lord." She lied. In truth she wasn't sure if this was fact, or part of an altered state of reality since she was drugged. She could never tell him even it was truth.

The Sheriff looked upon her, could feel it coming. The rage. She refused to look at him. He told himself to control it. Control the rage that he began to feel boiling up inside of him.

"My love." He began "I need to know. Nobody shall ever know this but me. I swear to you." He whispered.

"My love." She said. She forced herself to look at him. She told herself in her mind she was speaking truth. She had to be convincing. "He did NOT touch me the way you are referring to. He hit me and kicked me but." She sighed. "Enough now?" she asked.

"Yes." He agreed speaking through his clenched jaw. He held her close to him because he could no longer hide the rage that he knew was written all over his face. He didn't want her to see it.

"Hold me, my love." She breathed in his ear. "I want to stay this way."

"My lady."

She looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking. She could almost see the fire burning in his eyes. His jaw was set. He was trying to conceal it but she knew. She sensed it notwithstanding.

"You're angry, my Lord."

"My Lady, it's of no consequence." He tried to shrug it off and looked away. He knew he was being foolish trying to win this game. His actions were speaking as loud as if it was written all over him, or up in the sky.

"I'm sorry I did not tell you before." She said.

"The way you said it, as if it was normal." He began. "You contradicted your own words. You said he did not hurt you, touch you – whatever! And then you tell me he hit you and kicked you. As if that were perfectly acceptable?" He looked at her in confusion. He sat up and maintained his gaze as he looked down upon her. "True, I grew up without parents to teach me many things, namely morals. But I do know without anyone ever having to tell me that to harm a woman is a mortal sin! And you…you talk about it as if it's quite alright? Did you think that would be part and parcel of being with me? Is that why you would say such a thing? Or do you truly believe that it's perfectly fine that he did that to you?"

"I am just trying to forget." She answered immediately, stunning him for a moment.

"Pardon? My lady, you have me at a loss. What are you trying to say?"

"I don't want to talk about that loathed time. Something happened that I cannot remember." She sat up and looked at him. "I don't want to focus on it. I want to forget it. I just want to forget it. So stop this – stop asking me questions about any of it. I want to forget!" she looked away and began to tremble.

"Alright." He replied, suddenly concerned for her. He'd never seen her speak with such passion before. Especially to him. She was not afraid of him. She could get just as fired up as he could. He was excited by her fiery spirit. She was such a perfect match for him.

"Look at me." He said. She returned her gaze. "No more questions. Forgive me. It just angers me that I couldn't be there to help you. But I am now." He smiled. "So here we are now. We don't have to hurry back. What will we do about it?" he lowered his gaze as he took in her body, her glowing skin, her curves.

She knew what he expected her to say but she needed to say what was on her mind before she lost her courage.

"We're not so different, you and I." she said.

He looked at her questioningly. Rather taken by surprise.

"True, I had family for a little while. But at a young age I had to teach myself to manage. Just like you. We're survivors you and I. And I've discovered, I rather like danger." She lowered her gaze and began that erotic dance with her eyes that drove him to madness. And she was beginning to know it.

"Yes. I'm starting to learn the truth about you. You're not as needful as I originally thought about you."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes. My love, I can bear us being equals in our private life, but you know that it will be disastrous in our public life." He said in a more serious tone. "You must obey me when we are among others. At any function where we are present together. Even at celebrations and feasts."

"I know." She said.

"Nobody would ever understand." He whispered.

"I know." She breathed. "And right now, we are alone."

"That's what I love about you, Lady. You catch on very quickly. Yes, here and now, my love." He breathed as he kissed her neck. "We are truly free. Truly alone. With no guards outside of our chamber."

"Yes, my Lord." She said as she kissed him.

"I was dead before I met you." He said.

"I think I was too." She whispered. A beat. "I want you. Right now. Touch me, Sheriff." She whispered as she closed her eyes a moment before looking into his. "Teach me to feel again. Bring me to life." She whispered.

He was frozen for a moment. Surprised by her raw honesty, and slight change in her behaviour. So passionate and fearless. He liked it. He liked it very much. He felt his body respond before he even touched her.

"Close your eyes." He whispered to her. She submitted. He covered her entirely with his fiery gentle kiss. The soft hairs on his face tickled her skin, creating sensations that were foreign and exhilarating to her. He kissed her mouth, prying her lips open with his tongue, and touching his tongue to hers. Then he was positioned straddled on top of her. Barely touching her.

"Open your eyes." He commanded. She looked up at him looking down upon her, and he began to enter her, slowly. He stayed like that, looking at her as he began to move slowly inside of her. She could see the fire in his eyes. She was so aroused by it. After a few minutes she thought she would die without kissing him.

"My Lord, come here." She whispered as she reached out to him.

"Look at me." He said. She stopped and obeyed. It was as if she was losing her mind, looking up into those eyes. They burned with desire for her, she could no longer resist. She arched her back and let out a sigh of pleasure. He bent down and kissed her breast, then found his way to her lips. He looked at her "My lady..." she opened her eyes and looked into his. His fiery seductive hazel eyes. She could get lost in them. "You are mine." He breathed.

"Yes." She sighed as she kissed him. "You've awakened my soul."

"Rhiannon." He whispered slowly as he took her to a place that seemed as far away as the moon. They both cried out then continued to kiss one another until it felt like they were breathless.

He rolled onto his back and put his arm back behind his head, closing his eyes. He was so content. He'd never been so content. She soon interrupted his thoughts.

"My lord?" she began.

"Yes?"

"Are you tired?" she asked him.

"Well, no. Why do you ask?" he questioned as he looked over at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" he started, but she cut him off before he could continue.

"Good." She said.

"Why? – he began to ask but she placed her finger over his lips to silence him.

"Because, my Lord – I could do this all day, and then all night."

"Oh my God, Lady. I must have done something right in my life to have been granted you."

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"You're everything I've wanted. You're beautiful. Passionate. Responsive. And fearless. He sat up and leaned on his elbow and put his other arm around her as he looked into her eyes. "You're all I need." He said.

"My Lord."

"I swear if anyone should ever try to take you away from me again, God help them."

"For someone who doesn't believe you've been mentioning him a lot lately." She blurted out, surprising him.

He stared at her completely amazed. Was he that easy to read?

"You knew. How did you know?" he asked.

"Just a feeling I had. I cannot blame you. I almost lost my faith too." She said.

"Rhiannon. I never had it."

"Faith, you mean?"

"Yes. That's what I mean."

"That's okay."

"It's okay with you?"

"Yes." She began. "It doesn't matter to me what you believe or don't believe. As long as you believe in me. That's enough for me. I can live on that all of my life. That and your love." She said.

"That is all you need?" he asked. "Just for me to love you and believe in you?" Now was as good as time as any to bring up other issues about wifely duties, like motherhood for instance.

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"You're not stupid. You know exactly what I mean. What about a child? Our child? Wouldn't that be something else you could add to that list?"

"Well yes, when it happens." She said as she looked up at the clouds passing by. "I hope it doesn't happen too soon, though." He was glad she wasn't looking at him, he'd be hard pressed to conceal his disappointment.

"I'm having too much fun. And there's something about it that troubles me. I'm afraid."

"Oh yes, the pain, naturally I understand. But it won't last too long."

"No not the pain. The pain isn't what troubles me."

"Then whatever could it be?" he asked.

"I've heard that a husband looks at his wife differently after she becomes a mother. That he would have difficulty seen her as a lover anymore." She turned her head and looked at him. He tried not to laugh. Here she was telling him this, and he knew for a fact she had birthed a child from her body, yet he still found her very sensual. But he couldn't say anything right now to dispel the myth.

"I couldn't bear for you to grow tired of me." She said.

"I'm a long way off growing tired of you."

She started to speak but he took her face in his hands and said: "Don't speak. You're not yourself. Hear me when I say – you're the woman that made me give a damn! I shall never grow tired of you. And no, not even when you are mother to our child." She looked up into his eyes. He was serious.

"You want a child, my Lord?"

"Eventually, with you, yes my lady. Any child would be fortunate to be yours. They shall be thanking me for marrying you. And I'll be thanking you." He smiled.

"Oh." She cried out softly.

"My love? What is it"

"I don't know, my lord but I feel rather oddly at the moment." She looked at him. "Frightened. But I don't know why?"

She was beginning to remember. Come on, Rhiannon. He willed her. Remember. Remember our child.

"My lord, I don't know why I have to ask this but I need you tell me something."

"Alright."

"Tell me it's going to be alright."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Whatever it is that I do not remember. Whatever is in store for me. Tell me it's going to be alright."

"Firstly, nothing is lying in store for you alone. I'm going to be your side. Whatever comes lies in store for us." A beat. "It's going to be alright, my love." He said.

"My lord?"

"It's going to be alright." He whispered in her ear before he lightly kissed her cheek.


	22. Chapter 22

It was Saturday. Today Duke Farnsworth and the rest of the Sheriff's men ventured toward the local market. This was their second visit there. Twas as good a place as any to search for the infant. So far the youngest one they'd seen was a year old. The market was bustling. The day was fair. A perfect reason for the local townspeople to gather buying wares and vegetables, confectioneries, and fruit. Duke Farnsworth and the rest of the men secured their horses and began walking about in groups two throughout the grounds.

"I think we should start venturing out farther than this county." Mordrid said to the Duke.

"Tomorrow. But here's a perfect place to obtain essentials for a baby. Don't you agree?" the Duke said.

"Perhaps."

Together they began to walk about from one stand to the next, observing. Looking for young children, and overly attentive parents. After a time, around an hour, they grew thirsty and found a group of men gathered in an area where they were serving ale. The Duke and Mordrid strolled up to the man distributing it. There were a couple of local men seated there talking next to them. One of them was commenting to his friend that he would be in need of new armour shortly.

"Pardon me, sir." Mordrid interrupted them. The two men looked over at them as they continued to drink.

The Duke continued for them. "You might try to the local blacksmith. He's not far from here."

"Right." The man nodded. "Robert, you mean. He's not there anymore. He and his wife Isabelle packed up and left." He took another sip of his ale and let the froth linger on his moustache.

"The blacksmith? He left?" the Duke asked, puzzled.

"We just saw him a few days ago?" Mordrid added.

"Place must have been getting too small for them." The man said as he took another sip of his ale.

"Indeed." The man's friend added. "Why, last week, Isabelle came into my shop." He looked over at Duke and Mordrid. "My wife and I sell goods and produce a few miles from here. Isabelle bought several skeins of wool. My wife asked why. She said she needed to weave a baby blanket."

The Duke and Mordrid looked at each other, then back over to the men. The first man added: "Indeed James. I knew they wouldn't be here long once a child was on the way."

"Excuse us, gentlemen." Duke Farnsworth said as they both got up to leave.

"I knew he was lying to us." Mordrid spat.

"I didn't." Duke Farnsworth spoke.

"But that day – what you said about him?"

"I believed his story. What I said was that he looked familiar to me." The Duke turned towards his younger comrade. "We mustn't jump to conclusions. We can't stop keeping our eyes open and pin all hopes to these two. She could be with child."

"Then why go to the trouble of announcing that she'd never been able to bear children? To us? Two total strangers?" Mordrid pointed out.

"Hmm. Indeed you are right." The Duke shook his head. "She was trying to divert our attention away from them. Curses!"

"Those two have the Sheriff's infant, Duke." Mordrid said the words quietly. They knew what they must do.

Within a short time they had rejoined the rest of the Sheriff's men and explained what they'd heard, and what they knew from their previous conversation with the blacksmith a few days prior. They decided to travel onwards to search for them. This mission would take some time, since they didn't know which direction the blacksmith and his wife were headed. But at least now, they knew what they were looking for.

Two days later Guy arrived at Nottingham Castle. He was met immediately by one of Nottingham's guards. Guy pointed over to the Fallen Knight.

"This is the man we set out to capture. The Sheriff will be here in a few days hence with his betrothed and he left instructions in the meantime. Restrain this man and put him in the dungeon. Don't lay a hand on him. The Sheriff was adamant about that."

"Very well, Sir Gisborne." The young strapping blond haired guard said as he motioned for another guard to take the prisoner. He turned once more to Gisborne and said "Shall I send the page for the Sheriff's physician?" he asked as he nodded toward Lady Meridwyn.

"Yes. Send him to my quarters when he arrives. In the meantime, send for the witch to come and see to my lady. I've heard from my cousin that she helped work miracles on Lady Rhiannon."

"Very well, Sir." The young guard spoke as he went to carry out the order.

The second guard took the prisoner to escort to the dungeon as Guy bent down to gently lift Lady Meridwyn from the wagon. She hadn't woken at all during their three days of travel.

His quarters were in the opposite wing to the Sheriff's. The castle was so vast that it never felt like they lived in the same one. He carried lady Meridwyn through the gates, inside the castle walls, then up the stairs and to the right. Down a very long corridor that lead into his private chambers. Once inside he lay her on the bed. He lit some torches then sat beside her. He leaned down to her and spoke "My dear Meridwyn. My lady, we are home."

He covered her in a warm blanket after he removed her cape. Within a short time Mortianna's presence was announced by the Scribe. Guy opened the door and motioned her inside. She looked at Guy, and Lady Meridwyn on the bed.

"Madam, my cousin tells me you were helpful in restoring Lady Rhiannon. This is probably much different, but I need someone to look at her. Would you?" he implored.

"Very well, Sir Gisborne. And where is my Lord Sheriff and his Lady?" she asked as she glided in her silver and black robes toward the bed.

"Delayed, Madam. By a few days."

"I see." She said as she bent down to closely inspect Lady Meridwyn. Then she turned towards Guy. "Who can tell us then, what happened to Lady Meridwyn? Before she entered into her sleep?"

"Well, I should think Lady Rhiannon. Hopefully she is with my cousin now. I do not know for sure if she saw what happened, but she's my best guess." He mused.

"There was nobody else present?"

"The prisoner might know. He may have caused this. If I could get him to talk." Guy ruminated.

"It's worth the effort, my child. It would give us somewhere to begin."

As Mortianna began a cursory examination of Lady Meridwyn, Guy headed down towards the dungeon and entered therin looking for the prisoner. He found him in an area of isolation. He addressed the guard.

"I need to speak with the prisoner alone."

The guard nodded an agreement and walked away.

"What do you want?" the Fallen Knight spat.

"Well, now's as good as time as any to begin interrogation." A beat. "State your name."

"The Fallen Knight." The prisoner replied with a knowing smirk.

"Your Christian name!" Guy bellowed.

"No. No. No. I'm saving that one for the Sheriff."

"Were you present when the Lady became ill? Do you know what happened?" Guy asked changing the subject.

The Fallen Knight knew exactly what happened but he didn't care. These people did not deserve his cooperation.

"No. I didn't see anything. She was in that state when I found those two lovely wenches."

"Keep up this routine of yours, and I should think you'd find it difficult to continue your riddles with a sword in your gullet!" Guy barked.

Nearby, the young blond haired guard in the Sheriff's employ, who met Guy when he arrived, was staying close to observe the scene. He remembered his orders that no one was to harm the prisoner. He wanted to make certain the Sheriff's Deputy remembered that.

The Fallen Knight wasn't fazed. "Ah, but you heard the Sheriff's orders. Nobody is permitted to touch me, until he returns."

Guy paced a bit, then turned on his heel to the prisoner. "Then a little of your cooperation might do well to serve you." He hissed. "Again! Do you know what happened to my Lady? Were you present when she fell ill?"

"She was already on the ground, unconscious when I found them. The uh, lovely intoxicating wenches." The Fallen Knight said.

Guy squinted his dark eyes and reached across to grab the neck of the prisoner.

"You were not her first, you know." The prisoner whispered.

Guy widened his eyes and released his grasp. He stepped back shaking his head. His long dark brown hair glowed by the light of the myriad torches placed about the dungeon.

"I beg your pardon?" he said slowly.

"She used to be mine. I let her go you know. So I tried to capture her almost a year ago. She got away. She thought she beat me, but I let her win. Because I knew I'd find her again." The prisoner recited in a monotone.

Guy was still shaking his head.

"What? Back up, you bastard! What did you say?" he barked.

"I said: You were not her first."

Guy stared at him, his jaw set.

"She used to be mine." The prisoner whispered with a grin.

"You're lying!" Guy shouted as he began to charge towards the prisoner. He forgot his orders. He wanted to rip the man's heart out with his bare hands. Finally he got his hands on him.

"Sir Gisborne! Enough!" The young guard shouted as he ran towards him and pulled him off of the prisoner.

"Get off of me! What do you think you're doing, boy?" Guy yelled at him.

"Obeying the Sheriff's orders. The one which you conveyed to the Guards of this castle. I met you in the courtyard. And you told me that the Sheriff adamantly instructed that nobody was to lay a hand on this prisoner." He pointed out as he gestured toward the Fallen Knight.

"Yes. Right." Guy replied as he clenched his fists in frustration. He could've had him. "Fine." He sighed in resignation. "What is your name, boy?"

"Hector." The young guard replied, puzzled.

"I shall give you due praise, later in my discussions with my cousin." Guy said.

"And what about me?" the Fallen Knight asked. Guy and Hector glanced over at him curiously. "Oh. I'm sorry to interrupt." The prisoner said. "But you see dear Deputy, I did cooperate. Your answer to the question of your lady. I told you what I saw. Will you tell that to the Good Sheriff of Nottingham as well?"

"Don't push me, you bastard." Guy hissed.

"Fine." The prisoner replied. As Guy was getting ready to leave he stopped him. "Oh and if you need to ask me anything else…" Guy turned back and looked at him as the prisoner continued. " - You may take your liberty."

"And what would that be?" Guy rolled his eyes.

"Pertaining to Lady Meridwyn." The prisoner said straight faced without blinking in a hushed voice. Guy shot him a wide eyed stare. "What will you do, Sir Gisborne? Now that you know she was mine once? Will you even help her now?"

Guy shook his head slowly as he contemplated kicking this bastard. He decided the best response was none. He gave the guard, Hector, a knowing glance to keep his eyes on the prisoner and he retreated. Surely the prisoner was lying. Yet, he knew her name? Guy thought about this for a minute as he was walking back to his quarters. Then a smile slowly spread across his face. He realized he was being foolish. Of course! Lady Rhiannon must have called Meridwyn by name in front of the prisoner when they were held captive in the cabin. Moments later when he had his hand on the door the doubts crept in. Did Lady Rhiannon in fact give away Meridwyn's name to the prisoner? What if she never breathed a word? That bastard! He knew her name!

Inside the door he found Lady Meridwyn lying supine covered up to her waist in a down coverlet. She was wearing a whisper light white gown with thin straps over her shoulders. There was grey powder on her forehead in the shape of a cross, and Mortianna was sitting on the bed beside her. Guy advanced closer. Mortianna picked up a cup beside the bed on a table, gently lifted Lady Meridwyn and brought the cup to her lips.

"What is that you're giving her?" Guy asked.

"Batwing tea." Mortianna answered without turning around. She knew he had come in. "When was the last time she drank?" she asked him.

"I do not know. I tried to offer her some water the first few days but she wouldn't drink. Wouldn't respond to me!" Guy exclaimed.

"She is now, thank the Gods!" Mortianna said as she paused to look at Guy. "We must keep giving her liquids. She'll never recover otherwise. I'm sure Thomas will have some sound advice to offer as well."

Guy nodded. Thomas was the Sheriff's personal physician. A wise, tall, grey haired man who was very good in his occupation. He was beginning to feel a little more relaxed that he finally had his Lady home being tended to, but still he knew he'd feel better when the wise physician arrived. He looked down upon Lady Meridwyn. Her fiery long curls framed her lily white face and draped down over her shoulders. She was so quiet. He wasn't used to seeing her like this. She was always lively, animated, oft times spirited. He tried to quiet the panic inside of him. He bent down and kissed Meridwyn's cheek. Then he nodded for Mortianna to continue before he turned and headed out the door. He couldn't stay. Not just now. She hadn't waken, except now to sip some batwing tea. The longer he must look upon her like that, the harder it would be to face. The possibility of losing her. Will he ever find out the truth? Was Lady Meridwyn indeed acquainted with the prisoner being held in the dungeon at the moment? That bastard who calls himself the Fallen Knight?! Was she the lady he referred to in the document the Sheriff showed him a fortnight ago?

The prisoner was getting restless. He desperately wanted to wash his face, put on his hood, and take a drink. Damn that bitch for wounding him! He should've searched her when he captured her, but he didn't think she was clever enough to prepare for danger. As miserable as it was to stand chained to this wall he still enjoyed toying with Gisborne however. Let him think on that for awhile!

He'd made some mistakes the last few days. Curses! Why so careless? The storm, the abandoned cabin. As soon as the storm settled he should've continued on. He knew the Sheriff was on his way back to Nottingham. He didn't doubt that after he penned the second scroll. He was always one step ahead of the Sheriff. Not this time. A hint of realization presented briefly but he dismissed it. He couldn't have become careless because his former Maid Meridwyn was with him? He could not have gotten careless and landed in this loathed position because of a woman! So was it the Sheriff or a woman that drove him to madness? He shook his head. He had to figure a way out of here. He was starting to lose sight of his mission. In the meantime he could sugar coat his words to the guards to try to obtain his hood back. As well as devise some ways to further drive Sir Gisborne to madness. It would give him something amusing to do whilst he bided his time awaiting the Sheriff. He was only just warming up for that one. He had plenty of mind boggling, heart altering matters to discuss with him. None of which could be disputed since – miracle of miracles, the Sheriff's wench remembered nothing! Once he discovered that fact back at the cabin, he began to think of ways to use it to his advantage. He may be restrained in the Sheriff's dungeon but he could still act on part of his mission – to send the Sheriff insane. He still had a few party favours in store for the Good Sheriff of Nottingham. I might be chained to this cursed wall, but I still have a tongue and my wits about me, he thought. There is always a way…

Later that night the wise elder physician, Thomas, had just finished examining Lady Meridwyn in the Deputy's private chambers. He stepped outside the door to speak with Guy.

Guy walked over to him to greet him. "About my lady – you've seen her. What is your opinion?" Guy asked him.

"What had she been doing?" Thomas asked.

"That's just it – I do not know. When we found her she was like that."

"Do you know how she arrived at that cabin?" the physician probed.

"Yes. Well, they were captured. But prior to that, it seems she and the Sheriff's Lady stole two of his horses."

"So she was riding then?"

"Yes. I suppose she was." Guy sighed.

"That would explain a few things." Thomas began.

"Do you think she fell from the horse?"

"It's entirely possible. She is badly bruised in several places and has some sprains. Nothing appears broken however."

"Will she wake?" Guy asked nervously.

"It's hard to tell. She did respond to some things, so I dare say she may."

"Like what?" Guy asked.

"Pain. When I found she'd sprained her ankle she responded to that. That's a good sign. She needs close observation, fluids, and send for me when she wakes. I need to examine her at that time."

"Very well." Guy agreed. Thomas left and Guy entered into the chamber. He dismissed the witch and took her place in the chair next to the bed where his lady lay. He hoped she would awaken soon.

The Sheriff had just finished setting up camp for the night. This time his horse was nearby, it was easier than the first night he found Rhiannon to get to his supplies. She was a slight distance away offering water to his horse. He walked over to her.

"Come, my lady. You must be tired. We've been riding since dawn." He smiled at her as he extended his arm to her.

"Yes. I am a little tired, my Lord." She took his arm and he lead her over to camp, then into the tent.

"This is cozy." She commented.

He chuckled. "It's the same as last night, just a different location."

"Yes, but I didn't notice much last night. I don't even remember putting my head down."

"You were tired, my love. You have been a lot lately. You are still recovering." He said in a more serious tone.

"Yes." She whispered.

"You never should've ventured out to find me, Rhiannon. Even if you were well." He said as he sat on the cot. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him.

"Forgive me." She said.

"What were you thinking?" he asked her shaking his head. Clearly, he was having difficulty understanding her lately.

"My Lord, I just wanted to be where you were." She said quietly.

He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in close. "My Lady, you must know that I was missing you too. But that is how it must be sometimes. That is no reason for you to go off on your own on a fortnight's journey to find me!"

"Why not?" she asked. He was obviously shocked.

"What do you mean – why not?" he asked abruptly.

She turned completely to face him. She sighed then looked at him before she began.

"I was feeling stifled. We both were – Meridwyn and I." she paused to look for his reaction. He just raised his eyebrow at her. She tried to ignore it, because it was the one thing he did without thinking that sent tingles down her spine. "You don't know what it's like when you're not there. I'm accustomed to freedom. Oh! – this is not making sense." She stammered.

"Say it my Lady. Continue." He encouraged her. There was warmth in his hazel eyes as he looked at her. She was beginning to relax.

"I thought I'd go mad, my Lord."

"You won't make a habit of it, though, I presume?" he paused a moment before continuing. "You'd do well to listen to me, some of the time." He smiled.

"No. I won't take leave again." She agreed quietly then asked. "How near are we now?"

"We're about two days from home now, my love. Are you anxious to return?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes and no. Yes because I'm eager to find out about Lady Meridwyn. I'm worried about her. And, I'm looking forward to meeting your cousin. I've heard all about him from Meridwyn. But, I don't mind this." She said as her green eyes danced by the glow from the lamp.

"It is a bit like a get away isn't it?" he smiled back. "I must say, it's the first time my travels have been so – interesting."

She placed her arm about his neck and touched his wavy raven coloured hair. "So therefore, you are glad I am here?" she asked playfully.

"I am glad you are with me, yes. But that's because you did not meet with danger – this time."

"My Lord…" she began. He cut her off.

"If you were to try that again" he continued "We might not be so lucky." He added. "We wouldn't be doing this."

He could see she was disappointed. "My Lady." He whispered as he lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. " I'm only pointing this out because I was very worried I wouldn't find you when you left that cabin so abruptly. But, I am very glad you're here with me now. Taking a rest from riding has never been this – enjoyable." He smiled.

She remembered what it was that made her leave the cabin. She wished she could remember other things as easily.

"I was angry at you." She said.

"When?" he asked. He had forgotten all about Meridwyn's surprising kiss.

"I saw you kissing Lady Meridwyn. I know about you and she. She told me about it. Told me it couldn't work between you, and then she met Guy. Through you. Very convenient. Maybe, there's more than meets the eye." She looked away.

"Rhiannon…"

"You kissed her. Was it too dark for you in there? Did you think she was I? Or were you aware who it was you were being so intimate with?" she whispered.

"She did not know me, my Lady. I'm certain of it. I wasn't aware what was going to happen until it did."

"And how was it?"

"What?" he asked incredulous.

"How was the kiss? She used to be your maid." She said tentatively. She needed to know.

The Sheriff tried to suppress his anger. This was the first time she'd challenged him. He knew his answer though, and didn't hesitate responding.

"I was shocked by it. Unprepared for it. It wasn't anything." A beat. "I wished it was you." He said.

"I do too." She cleared her throat. She wanted to believe him, so she slightly changed the subject. "My Lord, did she say anything?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Meridwyn. Did she say anything to you?"

"Rhiannon, drop this."

"No this is important, my Lord."

He sighed. Where she was going with this he had no idea but he gave in. "Three words. All she said was three words: Oh, it's you."

"She spoke…" Rhiannon whispered.

"Yes?" He was shaking his head. Clearly confused.

"That must have been the first time she awakened. I tried to wake her several times but she wouldn't respond. She never moved or spoke."

"She is at the castle now, I'm certain of it. No doubt my cousin has sent for my trusted physician, Thomas. Everything is going to be back to normal very soon, my Lady. The outlaw is awaiting my judgement in the dungeon as well. We shall be home, and soon this will all be over." He reassured.

"You're certain?"

"Yes. It IS over. Now come here, and let me warm you a little, you're beginning to shiver." He smiled as he put his arms around her.


	23. Chapter 23

Rhiannon began to feel at ease. As she was nestled against his chest, with his strong arms around her, she took in his scent of musk and leather. She sighed. She was content.

"My lady." He whispered in the chocolate baritone the made her knees weaken in response to it.

She looked up into his eyes. He pulled her back to look at her. With his hands still on her shoulders he returned her gaze and said: "You know, I'm not used to this." He stated quietly.

She looked at him questioningly. The Sheriff elaborated.

"This. Having any kind of meaningful rapport with a woman. Sometimes I may come across as insensitive. It's unintentional, however." He sighed.

"Yes?" she questioned as she searched his eyes with hers. Trying to understand what it was he was trying to say. Was he apologizing?

"Sometimes, when I say things to you, I can see that I've disappointed you." He cleared his throat and continued. "I am who I am. I'm slowly learning, but there's so much about me you don't know - of my life, before you entered into it." He said.

She nodded. She suddenly remembered the stinging words of her captor, when he painted the Sheriff in a completely differently light, describing in detail the heinous acts comprising the man she didn't know – yet the one she was going to marry. She could hear the words as if they had just been spoken. She closed her eyes, in an attempt to shut the voice out of her mind, the terrible memory. The madman was probably lying, but still she wished he never spoke of it. She opened her eyes and looked into her lover's eyes as he waited for her response.

"My Lord." She began. "I don't wish to know. I see the man you are now. The only George, Sheriff of Nottingham that concerns me is the one I've known since last autumn. Who you were before prepared you for who you are now."

He smiled at her. She had such a lovely way of phrasing things.

"I've already heard enough about this anyway." She hesitated a whisper.

He shot his left eyebrow north automatically. "Wait a minute." He began as he squinted his eyes curiously. "What was that you said – you heard enough about this? About me? From whom? You've never heard much of anything from me!" he said as he stared at her commanding a response.

"It doesn't matter, my Lord." She couldn't help but to look away, away from his knowing gaze. She confirmed in that moment what she already knew in her heart. She would never be able to look him in the eye and lie to him.

"It was him wasn't it?!" he exclaimed as he got up abruptly from the cot. He removed his leather coat and swiftly cast it aside. "That little insect is quite a prize isn't he? And you – listened to it." He growled. "I underestimated his powers of persuasion." he said before he turned his back to her with his arms folded.

"What does it matter?" she pleaded. "You'll be executing him when we return."

The Sheriff turned his head and cast a sideways glance at her. She wasn't looking at him, her thoughts were elsewhere, again. He wanted to kill that outlaw. What was it he told Guy? About the slow painful death he was planning for the Fallen Knight? He wanted to make the man suffer for his crimes, but alas, he may need him to locate the child. He turned around to face Rhiannon. His face glowed warmly by the light of a small torch nearby. He took in a breath to calm himself. It was time he told her.

"A few years ago I was not as reasonable as I am now. I was angry most of the time, indulgent, and sometimes ruthless." He exhaled a sigh.

She looked up at him. "Don't. Don't tell me my Lord." She said.

"Rhiannon, you need to know."

"No" – she was cut off.

"Yes." He said as he began to pace. "You shall hear it from me alone. No one else. Least of all, that insufferable outlaw who abused you!"

"I told you already, it does not matter to me." She said.

He walked toward her and stopped a few feet away. "Rhiannon. Do you still wish to give me your hand?" he asked.

"Yes." She replied.

"Then you need to hear about the man you're marrying, from my lips alone." He said as he advanced closer. He lowered himself on bended knee in front of where she was seated, taking her hands in his.

"If I don't share this with you, I shall never forgive myself." He said in a raw whisper.

"Alright, my Lord." She relented.

He cleared his throat. "I have made some changes, it's true. Some of which began even before I met you. I'm attempting to become more tolerant. Still you need to know who I am." He got up and slowly began to pace in front of her. "I will never be a completely noble man. That I know now. Because the rage has begun to surface." He paused a moment to look at her, realized she appeared somewhat startled and continued. "So now, my lady, do not be frightened. But to understand me now, let me tell you a little about the man I used to be." He began.

And so he spent a good length of time sharing some of his story with her. Rather the story he chose to share with her. He skipped over some of it. The point was to enlighten her, not to overwhelm her.

She listened to him, she knew he spoke truth. Even though his words told of a man who was very capable of manipulating and lying for the benefit of his own advancement, she knew he was speaking truth. She understood it when he said he thought the rebellious nature started in boyhood over his anger at having no parents unlike his friends. She understood it because she sometimes had a propensity for rebelliousness herself. He was so intent when he spoke, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

The Sheriff was tactful about his choice of words and the events he chose to share with her. He quickly glossed over his childhood and fast forwarded to the era that was roughly three years ago. He spoke about how unpopular he used to be with the people of Nottingham. Because that time was the height of his infamy he told her of his old nemesis, Robin of Locksley. The insufferable outlaw who nearly succeeded in driving him to madness. He told Rhiannon that he now realized why it was he hated him so much. At that time his people practically worshipped Locksley, yet all that the Sheriff ever heard from them were complaints about needing tax relief and safe passage through Sherwood Forest. Locksley had cost him a fortune – in fact the entire treasury. The people suffered for it, yet they treated the outlaw like the messiah. He told her he was so nearly driven to madness by Locksley that he came very close to seriously harming his own cousin, his Lieutenant, for failing him. Failing to protect the Sheriff's men, for losing the gold that was meant to pay the Barons for their allegiance, and for not capturing the outlaw when he had the chance – all in the course of one cursed afternoon! He chose to tell her about that era because he believed that was probably when he was at his worst. He briefly told her about the day he ended Locksley's reign of stealing and leading a revolt against him. He admitted to killing him, but he didn't describe how. He never mentioned the Lady Marian. The pretty maiden he pursued at the time in order to gain access to the throne. It was redundant information since he released her from the castle soon after Locksley was slain. He had feelings for her he discovered, but he knew she would never forgive him since she was hopelessly in love with the hooded viper. That was the day he realized if he would ever take a wife, he wanted that woman to love him in return. Rhiannon was not likely to run into her, since Marian later moved to London seeking her mother's comfort. He didn't bother to mention his two consorts, Catherine and Hecate, or any of the other lovers, if he could call them that. There was no love involved, only lust and need. He couldn't begin to tell her about some of the people he very easily ordered to be executed. He would never be able to reveal his whole self to any one person, not even her. In his mind it was a futile waste of energy anyway. He was beyond absolution, and wise enough to know even she could not grant it to him. He told her the pertinent bits of information. He needed to be up front with her. He didn't need to change who he was, however. He would never allow himself to be weakened, especially in front of a woman. Most especially in front of this woman, when there was so much to lose.

"And that is my story, my lady." He stated at the conclusion of it. She looked up at him.

"Can you live with that?" he asked.

She looked down a moment then raised her head up to meet his gaze. She arose from the cot and walked slowly toward him. She stopped when she was inches away from him.

"My Lord, I love you despite the deeds of your past." She began. "Yes. I will live with that." She said as she searched his hazel eyes with hers.

He ran the back of his hand softly down her cheek, then reached around to the back of her neck and pulled her in close to kiss him. His kiss was soft, gentle, and languid. It almost brought her to tears.

"My Lord!" she cried out softly as she kissed him.

"What about you, my lady?" he whispered as he tasted her soft full lips. "Do you have anything else to tell me?"

She broke free, breathless, and looked at him curiously. "Regarding what, my Lord?"

"Well, I just told you of my past. You already told me a little of yours the first day we met. Is there anything else you wish to share?"

"Well, no my Lord. My life was rather tedious before I met you. You are my first love if that's what you mean. Alas, my days were not as full as yours." She said.

"Indeed."

"It's true." She said.

He brought his hands to her shoulders. "We shall be home soon, my lady. In the upcoming days I shall need to discuss some matters with you. It won't do any good to speak of it now because there's some information I require." He said, choosing his words carefully. Once he was certain the infant was well, he wanted to marry her. The sooner, the better.

"Regarding what matter?" she asked.

"We shall talk more then." He said. His expression told her to let it lie. He wasn't willing to budge. There seemed to be too many questions surrounding her of late.

"My Lord, have I displeased you in any way?" she asked tentatively. Her voice was calm and gentle, yet her green eyes were pleading with him.

"No. Absolutely not, my angel." He said as his face softened. "All I will tell you about it now is that it concerns you and I and our future." He smiled, then added "My Lady Nottingham."

She smiled radiantly and embraced him. "It sounds divine when you say that to me." She said.

"I never thought I'd ever utter those words." He spoke in a barely audible whisper as he caressed her silken tresses.

She sighed and pulled away from his embrace. "Will anything change once we're back in Nottingham?" she began.

"No. What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't know. Just anything, now that we're…" her words faded out into an empty space.

"Going to be wed, you mean?" the Sheriff asked pointedly.

"Yes."

"No. Whatever changes occur, I hope you agree they're for the better."

She sighed than looked away. "I shall need to return home."

"No, my lady." He said.

"I must return…" she was cut off as he put his fingers to her lips to silence her. "Rhiannon. No. You shall stay with me. I have people at the castle I've assigned to your care. It was not that long ago you were gravely ill. I will not hear of it. You are staying with me."

"But we are not married, my Lord?"

"Do you think that matters? You stay with me." His eyes burned into hers.

"Very well." She relented. It was clear he wouldn't change his mind.

"My lady, we will be married soon." He said.

She smiled at him, yet she couldn't help but add: "If you weren't so insistent on my staying with you, we wouldn't have to rush into marriage."

"My lady?"

"Truthfully, my Lord, we really haven't known each other long enough." She stated.

"That may be true, my lady, depending on how long enough 'long enough' is to you. Yet I cannot explain it. I am not one to make hasty decisions, but I knew with you. There was a connection I could not explain, and I knew that asking for your hand was the right decision to make. But when I proposed to you I didn't mean a wedding in a year from now. Naturally, I meant very soon. And if it weren't for the circumstances we found ourselves in, my proposal to you would have indeed meant: marry me now!"

"My Lord." She blushed.

He grabbed her and pulled her close to him. Then in a velvet growl next to her ear he breathed "Yes. Now. I don't want to have to sneak into your room at night. And I shall need to do that when we return home. I don't care what the staff think of me, but I care what they think of you. I cannot let you go. Rhiannon, you are meant to be my wife. You're the woman I dared only dream of. In reality, I didn't think I deserved this." He kissed her neck, slowly, sensuously, tickling her with the soft hair from his beard.

"Of course you do, my Lord. I am not so perfect." He was beginning to make her tingle.

"Yes, you are." He whispered. "My reality is now a blissful dream. You are my reality."

"My Lord…"

"Yes, it's true…" he breathed as he devoured her mouth. She broke free.

"We can still do this, if that's what you fear." She said.

"What?"

"I think that you have it in your mind that I won't permit this - this intimacy, until we are wed. That's why you're pushing me into it. Well, into a wedding awfully soon." She stammered.

"No, my lady. I would have waited, though I would have continued to persist. My Lady Rhiannon, I…" he paused a moment, then quietly continued "I'm in love with you. That's the reason I wish to marry you soon. Because for once in my life, it's the right thing to do."

"My Lord." She sighed. "Oh, to hear you say those words…." She said as she touched his face. "I'm delighted you wish me to be your wife. I couldn't be happier about it. But why such haste?"

"I don't think we're rushing, my Lady." He said.

"In truth, we spent many months apart. We really haven't spent much time together."

"True. However, I just told you the reasons why I wish to do this. I am sure about this. Yet, you are not are you?"

"I'm sure I love you." She said. "I'm sure I want to be your wife. But we could do it in six months. Perhaps a year from now?"

"Rhiannon, we'll be the only couple in all of England to remain happily engaged. Who do you know waits a year to marry?" he chuckled.

"Well, I – nobody, but…"

"Think about it, my love. Let's not talk about this anymore now." He whispered as he placed his fingers to her lips. "We have this moment together. Undisturbed. We shall be leaving again on the morrow but for right now, give me this night." He breathed as he kissed her earlobe. The soft hairs on his face tickled her jaw line.

"I give to you all of my nights." She smiled as her spine tingled in response to his feather light kisses.

"Good. Then no more discussion of our nuptials right now?"

"As you wish, my Lord." She agreed.

And so he began to slowly seduce her. His plan was beginning to fail so he had to do something to save it. He had to persuade Rhiannon to agree to marry him within a reasonable time frame. First he needed assurance the child was alive. He wanted to be standing by her side as her husband when she would be told about the child. Especially when the child arrived at the castle. If she didn't agree to marry him before the infant arrived, she may be so angry as to call off the wedding. He could not let that happen. Sometimes her demeanor was so mercurial it made her quite unpredictable. He couldn't begin to imagine what her reaction would be when he would be faced with telling her the truth. If they were already wed however, the worst reaction he might expect is that she wouldn't speak to him for a few days. She'd eventually come around. She would have to. What was she do then – abandon her infant and her husband? Her reputation would be ruined and he knew she'd never submit to that. But the public's perception of the matter would be entirely different if they were not yet married. Thus, it would be easier for her to separate herself from him. The Sheriff knew that his plan for a wedding sooner rather than later would be his best course of action to assure he would never lose Rhiannon. He never had many blissful moments in his life, in fact he slowly realized there were none, so he had few expectations regarding his affair with Lady Rhiannon. In his mind, all hell was set to break loose in the days to come. But he would be damned if he was going to lose her. He loved his lady too much. And so, if a long slow seduction would help in the end achieve his goal of convincing her to agree to his terms on their upcoming nuptials, then he would willingly oblige. This could work.

As he kissed her he touched her hair and ran his hands down her back, slowly to the base of her spine. Then he brought them around to the front, unlacing the ribbons on the bodice of her gown. Once they were untied, he gently grasped the loosened edges of her gown with his hands and pried them open. Her creamy skin slowly came more and more into focus, and then the mounds of her breasts peaked beneath the silky fabric inviting his touch.

"My love." She whispered. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and swiftly drew it over his head. She desired him. He cupped his hand over her breast and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefingers. Then he bent down to it and took it in his mouth, tenderly tasting her. She cried out. He stopped and raised himself to kiss her.

"Take me to bed, my Lord." She purred.

He picked her up and carried her over to the cot to continue to please her. He lay on his side and slowly outlined her curves with his hand. She moved in closer to him, her breasts were exposed from her loosened gown. She wanted to feel his skin next to hers. She began to kiss him, then nestled against his smooth chest, savouring every moment.

"Tell me you want more of this, my lady." He said in a raw voice.

"Yes. I just want – more of us. Together rather than apart." She said.

"You shall have that." He said. "And, you shall also be the only woman I shall ever need to answer to."

She looked away. He persisted regardless as he continued to kiss her cheek, then her neck. "How can this be wrong, when it's so very right?" he breathed into her ear. "Don't you feel it, Rhiannon?" he whispered as he came around to kiss her lips. "Don't you feel how right this is when we're together like this?"

"Yes, my Lord. When we're alone like this, it is everything I could ever dream." She smiled as she returned his kiss with hers.

"There's a 'but' coming in there, I can sense it." He correctly identified.

"Okay, yes. It's different at the castle. I'm just not used to guards, and being followed everywhere." She looked up at him. "It will take some time, but I will adapt." She smiled.

"My lady, I know it can be daunting to be in the position you're in." he raised himself up on his elbow and rested his chin on his hand to continue. "I've never had success with maids before. If there ever were any I briefly courted who had any ounce of respectable character – and believe me there was maybe only 2 of those, invariably they fled when the pressure became too great for them. They couldn't handle it if I was required to leave. Alas – neither affair barely lasted a fortnight."

"I'm sure I will be fine with that. I'm used to being on my own." She said.

"Indeed, my love. Perhaps a little too used to it." The corners of his mouth turned up in a grin.

"As you said, my Lord, I cannot change who I am." She smiled.

"True." He said as he caressed her cheek then reached around and twined his fingers through her hair. "Don't change a thing, my angel." He whispered as he kissed her. Except your surname, he thought.

His hot kiss made her dizzy and hungry for more. As he tasted her lips, he wanted to take more and more. He realized that he could use this moment of opportunity to his advantage. Should he give to her what she wants? He wanted to, desperately. He debated in his mind whether to withhold from her now, or later. She made it difficult to resist her. As he eased her gown over her shoulders and released her from it until she was bare to the waist, he could feel his body respond. A sudden surge of heat coursed through him then settled, and he could feel himself harden. Her skin was so soft to the touch. He touched her breast, it was smooth and firm. He kneaded it gently with his hand. She moaned his name and shamelessly cried out for more. And that was when he decided he would wait another day to attempt withholding his love for her, unless she would agree to marry him within a fortnight of their arrival in Nottingham.

"Open yourself to me, Lady Nottingham." He commanded in a raw sensual whisper as he swiftly removed her gown. He would have her begging for more. She would be his wife in no time if he strategizes right.


	24. Chapter 24

Late that night in a clearing outside of a small village to the north, the Sheriff's men had established camp for the night en route to locate the blacksmith. Duke Farnsworth sat alone by the fire penning a scroll for the Sheriff using materials bought at the market, when Mordrid – restless from a bout of insomnia, approached him.

"What's that?" Mordrid asked pointing to the parchment.

"I'm sending word to the Sheriff." The Duke replied.

"That's if he even can be reached at the castle." Mordrid said. "Things may have changed since we last spoke with him. The outlaw might have him out on a wild goose chase for all we know."

"I have to take the chance he's there. He needs to know we have a lead." The Duke said as he dipped his quill in the ink jar to continue writing.

"Don't you think we should wait until we have confirmed our suspicions?" Mordrid asked in another attempt to dissuade him.

"There hasn't been a shred of good news regarding this matter." The Duke said. His wavy reddish hair gleamed against the light cast from the glow of the fire. "This is the closest we've come to having something solid to lead us in the right direction. We're this close to apprehending the Sheriff's infant!" he said as he formed the figure of a small c with his thumb and forefinger. "He deserves to know we're moving in the right direction."

"It might just ire the Sheriff even more! It will give him something more to mull over. You know how temperamental he can be, Duke!" Mordrid pointed out.

"Quite the opposite, I believe. I've a strong hunch it will ease his mind instead. That seems far fetched, I know, but I don't think it's best to keep him in suspense."

"Well, you are the commanding officer in the Sheriff and Guy's absence." Mordrid conceded.

"Indeed." The Duke nodded. "At dawn we must find ourselves a messenger. Have a look in our treasury. We shall need to pay him."

"Very well." Mordrid agreed. "What do you think we should do with the blacksmith and his wife when we find them?" he asked.

"If they have the child we're looking for, we should bring them to Nottingham with us. Let the Sheriff decide their fate."

"They weren't the ones who abducted the infant, if the truth be told, Duke. Maybe we should just take the child and release them?"

"No. We must give him the choice. The Sheriff is difficult to predict. A few years ago he would have hanged them. True he's since softened, but you never know when he'll revert to his old ways. And if that should happen…"

"Then he'll hang us if we don't bring them to him." Mordrid finished for him.

"Exactly. We leave nothing to chance." The Duke said as he sealed the scroll.

In the early morning hours they found a young man who was fit and willing to make the journey to deliver Duke Farnsworth's scroll to the Sheriff.

"You must place this directly into the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham." The Duke instructed him. "Tell the guards when you get there that Duke Farnsworth sent you. They will show you inside and direct you to him." He said as he gave the sealed document to the messenger as well as a small pouch containing payment in gold for carrying out the task.

"Very well, sir." The young man said. And his journey to Nottingham began.

The Sheriff kept quiet most of that day when he and Rhiannon continued to travel towards Nottingham. The day was overcast and misty as they covered a good deal of ground. He was thinking over his plan. He didn't know if he'd be able to carry it out. How could he say no to this woman? He was beginning to hate himself all over again.

She was always so giving to him. Unrestrained, and lately uninhibited. He kept trying to tell himself he was doing this so he could hold onto her as his wife. Still it did little to ease his mind. Every time she cast a glance at him while they rode their horses south this day, he hated himself. She would eventually wonder why he wouldn't touch her. He only hoped she wouldn't jump to the wrong conclusion about it before he could attempt to tactfully explain. He thought about the night before. She gave herself completely to him, again. He sighed. It was going to be difficult to resist her.

They kept going until it was nearing dusk. In a little while he would find a place for them to stop. In truth, he could keep going, but Rhiannon would need to rest. He looked over at her, then slowed his horse. She was already beginning to nod off. Curses! He should have been paying attention. He guided his horse over to her and took over her reins, expertly managing both of their horses. She opened her eyes when her horse abruptly stopped.

"My lady."

"Are we there?" she asked.

He smiled. "No, my lady. Not quite. We should be there by high noon tomorrow. Right now, however, you need rest." He suggested.

"Oh no, I don't. I can keep going!" she exclaimed.

The Sheriff leaned over and kissed her. "My angel, you're a true soldier. I know you could. But you must rest. I insist. You will want to be at your best when you see Lady Meridwyn won't you?"

"Yes. I should say I would." She sighed. "You are right."

Later that night when she was sound asleep next to him, his arm around her, he stared at the roof of the tent and was relieved she was exhausted. It gave him a way out. He didn't need to pretend tonight. He looked over at her, the beautiful yet mysterious lady who would be his wife. For some strange reason he found himself thinking of Lady Marian - the maid who nearly became his wife.

It was Lady Marian who was somewhat instrumental in his willingness to change his ways. After he succeeded in killing Locksley, he could see that no matter what he did, she would never forgive him or trust him. Without neither of those elements, there could never be love. As some days passed after Locksley's death, he realized as he observed her that he never truly won. Because it was then he knew that the victory was hollow. He went about the notion of marriage at that time for all the wrong reasons. If there was ever such a thing as real love, he wanted to taste it, even if only briefly. He became more and more aware of that fact every time he looked into Marian's eyes and saw only revulsion reflected back to him from hers. He was such a different man now. He suddenly realized that if the order of things had been somehow changed, if they'd met in another time, it could be Marian who would be his wife. He shook his head to bring himself back to reality.

Rhiannon murmured in her sleep. Her face was so serene. He had been more open with her about himself the night before, than anyone in his life, besides Guy. Yet she offered nothing more of herself. What secrets did this beautiful lady harbour? Lady Rhiannon of the North - the bride he would barter his very soul for.

The following afternoon the Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon passed through the gates and entered into Nottingham Castle. He escorted to her to his private chambers, insisting she be examined by Lady Margaret at once. She finally relented.

"I will send for Lady Margaret, my lady. You remain here for now. I need to speak to my cousin and I shall send for you in a little while."

"Very well, my Lord." She sighed.

"Promise me you won't try anything foolish, like disappear again."

She looked away from his gaze.

"Rhiannon." He commanded.

She looked up and forced herself to meet his eyes. "Yes. You have my word, my Lord."

He smiled from the threshold and then exited. She looked toward the doorway, following his shadow until it vanished. He was acting peculiarly. What was going on with him? In many ways the time they spent the last few days were the best of her life. Yet, some of the things he said puzzled her. She never thought that the Sheriff of Nottingham would be so eager to plan his wedding. She'd heard a little about him before she met him, she'd never been able to identify him until Rebeccah pointed him out. Yet he was known as the consummate bachelor. And now, she knew he'd want to talk with her about their marriage plans now that they'd returned. Why was he so eager to move this along so quickly?

She thought a moment, then remembered the words he spoke the night before the discussion about their wedding. He was talking about children that night. Was he pushing her into marriage because he wanted a child? Was that the reason for his intimacy? He wanted her to conceive? And even more curiously, why was it the mere thought of it was giving her an empty feeling deep in her belly, and an odd ache in her breasts?

The Sheriff found Guy in the Council Quarters going over notes written by the Scribe at the Town Council Meeting held in the Sheriff's absence. Guy looked up from the unrolled parchment on the table before him, when he heard the creaking of the door as it opened announcing he had company.

"Cousin!" Guy exclaimed as he arose from the chair. "You've returned at last."

"Good day, cousin." The Sheriff said as he walked toward him. "What news awaits?"

"The prisoner is in isolation in the dungeon. Restrained and untouched as you instructed. And you can thank the young guard, Hector, that the murderous bastard is still available for you to dispose of."

"Duly noted. I shall reward him for his obedience." The Sheriff commented then added "Who was it who nearly disobeyed my order?"

"It was I, cousin. After the poisonous words he spoke regarding Meridwyn."

The Sheriff took in a breath. "Then you're forgiven. I can only imagine what he would say to me about Rhiannon given half the chance. I should want to kill him on the spot too if he tried that game with me."

"He knew her, George."

"What? That insect knows Lady Meridwyn? How?!"

"He claims…" Guy stopped for a moment to shut his eyes and take a deep breath. It was difficult to say the words. The Sheriff looked at him curiously.

"Continue cousin." He encouraged.

"He claims that Meridwyn used to be his lady!" Guy cried out bringing his fist down on the table to punctuate it. "Have you ever heard of such lunacy?"

"Well - no. But I've never dealt with a mass murderer before either." The Sheriff replied in disgust.

"He knew her name." Guy said softly.

"Relax, Guy. He probably heard my lady address her. He probably knows my lady's name too."

"He never mentions her."

"Well, isn't this curious, cousin? Lead me to him. But, before you do, is there news from Duke Farnsworth?"

"No. Not as yet. I expect we should be hearing something from him soon." Guy said.

"Indeed. He can always be counted on to report all of his findings, no matter how far away he may be on a mission." The Sheriff remarked.

The dungeon was located in the depths below the distal end of the castle that was separated by two additional sets of gates. The Sheriff and Guy proceeded to the area of isolation where the Fallen Knight was being held. Guy excused the guard stationed by the entrance there and they entered in the cell to talk to the prisoner.

The Fallen Knight was chained to the wall inside. His arms suspended above him. His head was down but he raised it when the Sheriff and Guy entered.

"My good Sheriff." The prisoner hissed as he took in the sight of his enemy. "You've returned. So, are we going to negotiate my last wish then?"

The Sheriff rolled his eyes and glanced at Guy before responding. Guy's expression affirmed he agreed the man was a raging lunatic. The Sheriff grinned knowingly at Guy, then advanced toward the prisoner, grabbed him by the edges of his ragged collar and barked: "You shall be granted nothing!"

"Then unchain me and get on with it." The Fallen Knight challenged him, unblinking.

The Sheriff cast a malevolent grin upon him and replied, "What's the matter, Knight?" he hooked the first two fingers of both hands in the air around the last word. "Are your arms getting tired?" He leaned in close and whispered gruffly. "You die when I say you die."

"If you're not here to kill me, my good Sheriff, what do you want with me now?"

"To continue the interrogation proceedings." The Sheriff replied.

The prisoner laughed.

"State your name!" Guy barked.

"Not yet." The prisoner hissed. He looked over at the Sheriff and added: "All in due time."

"How do you know the Deputy's lady?" the Sheriff asked, his face up close to the prisoner. The Fallen Knight suddenly recalled the time he was captured three years ago. The Sheriff's face was this close to him then when he negotiated a deal with him. This time was different. The last time he felt fear. This time he felt nothing. The Fallen Knight ignored the Sheriff and looked over at Guy.

"Have you come to learn more from me? How is she anyway? Your darling lady"

"Cousin, what is this nonsense he's babbling about?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Why, he didn't tell you then?" the prisoner said. "Permit me to elaborate. Lady Meridwyn used to be mine. Alas, she was my lady - before you ruined me, that is."

"You're lying!" the Sheriff bellowed.

"I cannot change what is fact." The prisoner began. He paused then added "Well? Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" the Sheriff went along with the tedious question, bored by the entire process thus far.

"What I know about your lady."

"You know nothing of her!" the Sheriff bellowed.

"If that's what you want to believe." The prisoner taunted.

"He's attempting to try your patience, my Lord." Guy interjected. "Pay him no heed."

The Sheriff ignored Guy and grabbed the prisoner again by the collar. "Explain yourself - knight!" he commanded.

"Let's just say that…" he drew the words out slowly as the Sheriff fixed his steely gaze upon him. "Your innocent little lady and I grew to know each other quite…." He stopped a moment to take in the Sheriff's intent gaze then added: "intimately."

The Sheriff reacted by swiftly whacking the prisoner along the side of his head.

"Liar!" he shouted.

"It's true." The prisoner contended. "Now. I wonder? I'm sure it is indeed yours, good Sheriff, but just think of it: no matter that child's paternity… either way it's the child of a murderer."

"Enough!" the Sheriff barked.

"What did you do with the child?" Guy interrupted them, attempting to divert the topic. "Where did you leave the child?"

"Somewhere north." The prisoner answered vaguely.

"Well, cousin." The Sheriff began as he turned toward Guy. "This has been an utter waste of time."

"She's really rather exquisite, isn't she Sheriff?" the prisoner spoke up. The Sheriff looked at him with his left eyebrow raised. "Your innocent little lady." The prisoner added.

"Guard!" the Sheriff barked. His request was met immediately. The guard appeared suddenly, ready for his command.

"Twenty five lashes to this prisoner!" the Sheriff ordered. The Guard nodded. The Sheriff looked over again at the prisoner.

"We'll be back tomorrow to continue our little chat." He ran his gloved hand along the raw side of the prisoners face and added: "Sleep tight." He grinned.

When they had exited the dungeon, on their way back to the main section of the south wing, the Sheriff couldn't hide his agitation.

"Damn that murderous, lying little insect! Did you hear that, cousin? He expects me to believe he took liberties with Lady Rhiannon!" he spat.

"He's lying, my Lord."

"Well he had better be!" the Sheriff spat. "Or I shall order him be drawn and quartered in the village square, then hung on the castle walls by his own entrails!"

"Indeed." Guy agreed. "He hasn't admitted to touching Meridwyn yet. Though I'm sure he'll be happy to mention it when queried."

"Peculiar how he seems to know so much about both your lady and mine, isn't it?" the Sheriff continued.

"He's not going to reveal it." Guy remarked.

"What?"

"The location of your child."

"If it's indeed mine." The Sheriff mentioned quietly off the cuff.

"Of course it's yours. But he'll never tell us. What are you waiting for? Kill him!" Guy urged.

"What was it the little insect said, Guy? All in due time." The Sheriff mused as he stopped then in his tracks. "He will die, cousin. Have no fear about that. But I plan to make his remaining days completely and utterly – miserable." A beat. "It's the very least I can do." He grinned.


	25. Chapter 25

"I should like to participate in inflicting misery upon him if I can." Guy smiled.

As the Sheriff and Guy walked along the torch lit corridors of the south wing of the castle, the Sheriff finally asked the question that he purposely waited for the right time to mention.

"What news of your lady, Guy?"

"She has not yet awakened, cousin." Guy replied as he looked over at the Sheriff.

"Did you send for Thomas Crumwell, my personal physician?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. He's seen to her every day since we arrived."

"My lady wishes to see her, Guy. Is that alright with you?"

"You may both see her." Guy replied. "You will be her family. If she would ever awaken so that I may ask her for her hand!" he exclaimed in frustration.

"She will, cousin." The Sheriff reassured him.

They soon came upon another of the Sheriff's guards. The Sheriff stopped to speak with him, instructing him to bring Lady Rhiannon to his Lieutenant's private chambers. The guard obeyed and the Sheriff and Guy proceeded directly there.

Half an hour later, the Sheriff and Guy were inside of Guy's private chambers. Lady Meridwyn lay supine on the bed, pale in a whisper white gown, covered in pale pink sheets of silk. Even lying there as ill as she was, she was a vision with her fiery curly tresses falling down upon her lily white shoulders. Mortianna was at the bedside, offering sips of batwing tea and wiping Lady Meridwyn's brow with a dampened cloth. The guard announced Lady Rhiannon's arrival. Guy nodded and motioned his hand toward him in a gesture for the guard to bring her inside the chamber. The Sheriff cast his eyes to the doorway, and followed his path of vision along with his lady, as she slowly walked in. She never took her eyes off of Meridwyn, oblivious to every other person in the room with her. He quickly looked to Guy. Guy swallowed. This was the first time he'd ever seen Lady Rhiannon in good health. She had such grace about her.

The Sheriff looked again to Rhiannon. She was dressed in a mint green gown, her hair pulled back loosely behind her. Loose tendrils from her shiny hair danced around her face as she glided gracefully toward the bed. She got near to the bed and took Meridwyn's hand. Mortianna moved aside to the other side of the room. Then Lady Rhiannon gently seated herself on the bed beside Meridwyn, and with her other hand she gently stroked Meridwyn's forehead.

"Dear Meridwyn, my friend." She swallowed. "You are like my sister." She whispered as her eyes glossed over forcing her to bite her lip and blink away a tear. She bent down closer then and lowered her voice. "You silly goose! We shall truly be sisters if you would only wake up! How could he not ask for your hand now?" She raised herself up and cleared her throat.

"It's my fault, Meridwyn." She said softly. "It was I who planted the seed, the foolish notion to search for our lovers. If I hadn't been so selfish, you'd be perfectly fine!" she placed her hands around Meridwyn's and slowly raised them up to her lips and kissed them. "Forgive me." She whispered. Then she slowly turned around to face Guy and the Sheriff. Looking at Guy she said quietly: "Forgive me." Then she looked back down to her friend.

Guy walked toward her and Rhiannon slowly stood beside the bed. She kept her head down with her hands clasped in front of her. Guy stopped a foot away from her.

"Lady Rhiannon." He said. She slowly looked up. He was tall but not as tall as the Sheriff. With long dark hair, dark brown eyes, and tiny silver wires gleaming in his earlobes. He was dressed very much like her Sheriff, in garbs of black leather. Except there was an eagle elegantly painted on the leather across his chest.

"I've heard your voice near to me before." Rhiannon said as she met his eyes. "When I was ill. You were there weren't you?"

"Some of the time, yes, milady. Assisting my cousin with whatever he needed from me at the time."

"We were taken by surprise." Rhiannon began, changing the topic. "He shot an arrow at us. It hit Meridwyn's horse - she was thrown when the horse kicked up!" She looked back down towards the floor and said: "It is my fault."

"No. You helped to save her. You wounded the outlaw." Guy said.

The Sheriff watched Lady Rhiannon from his vantage point with his arms folded against the wall. He could see that she truly cared for Lady Meridwyn. She was quite affected by it. Lady Rhiannon always kept a hardened exterior, just like him. He'd never really witnessed her cry. There were many times in his presence where she should have cried, but she wouldn't. Yet, this time, for once she appeared quite close to tears. He could no longer stand back as a quiet observer. He advanced toward her, and extended his hand out to her to gently touch her shoulder as he drew nearer to her.

"My lady. Don't take this upon yourself." The Sheriff said. "It will be okay."

"No!" she blurted out. She was overcome with emotion and later regretted the words that henceforth tumbled past her lips. "How can you promise she will be alright? Look at her!" she exclaimed as she pointed toward the bed. "She is white as death! She's clearly not okay and it is my fault!" she cried.

The Sheriff and Guy looked at each other, then at her, both of them incredulous when she added: "You must punish me!"

"No." Guy said.

"My lady! What are you muttering about?" the Sheriff demanded, grabbing both of her shoulders in an attempt to control her.

"You must punish me!" Rhiannon shouted. "I stole your horses!" Then the tears began to tumble down her cheeks as she angrily wiped them away. She broke free and paced about the room in front of Guy and the Sheriff's astonished faces and let the words flow from her rapidly and without thought.

"It was I who plotted for us to leave the castle to search for you both." Rhiannon began. She pointed over to Meridwyn lying on the bed. "She just went along with it! I stole the horses! I stole your dagger too!" she said as she shot a glance at the Sheriff. "If she dies, it is my fault. I should be punished for it." She whispered.

The Sheriff walked toward her wordlessly. As he neared close, just a few inches away from her, he stopped. She stood there quietly with her eyes downcast, breathing rapidly and trembling. He embraced her then and she rested her head against his chest and quietly began to weep. He stroked her hair and whispered calming words to quiet her. Guy came toward them.

"Lady Rhiannon." He spoke. Rhiannon released herself from the Sheriff's embrace to look at him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. He continued. "She is going to get well. She must. And when she does, she is to be my wife." He said quietly.

Rhiannon smiled. "Meridwyn told me all about you, Guy. One of the first things she mentioned was that you were my lover's cousin. Yet she was quick to add you were indeed more like brothers." She sighed. "You know, I wasn't granted a sister. So I naturally expected to be granted two sisters in law by my dear brothers. Alas, they were both taken from me. A year ago, I was alone. And now, I have family." She smiled.

The Sheriff looked at her proudly and grasped her hand. Guy smiled back at her.

"Indeed." Guy said. "We are family."

Mortianna was back at the bedside quietly tending to Lady Meridwyn. She gave them a few moments to themselves before she decided to break up the party. She advanced toward the three of them and startled them somewhat when she spoke.

"My Lord Sheriff, I'm pleased to see that you and your lady have returned home safely. Now, I ask all of you to grant us some peace. The lady requires quiet."

"Indeed. Very well, then." The Sheriff replied. He nodded to Guy, then turned to Lady Rhiannon.

"Come my lady. There's something I wish to show you." He said smiling at her. He lead her through the door and they continued on through the long corridors.

"My Lord." She said as they walked together. "She doesn't look good." A beat. "It's not good – is it?" She stopped and put her hand on the wall beside her to steady herself. She was frightened for Lady Meridwyn.

The Sheriff stopped and took both of her hands in his. "My lady, when you were ill just weeks ago, you appeared in a worsened state than she. And look at you now?" he smiled. "I will see to it that Guy has access to the best care for her. Everything is being done for Lady Meridwyn."

She smiled weakly then turned to continue walking. The Sheriff followed her lead, then offered her his arm. She took it with both of her hands.

"What is it you wish to show me?" she asked him.

"It is a gift." He replied.

"A gift?"

"Yes. Now come. It's just through that door up ahead on the left." He reached into his pocket once they arrived at the door and pulled out a key. Within a few moments he unlocked it and pushed the door open. He held her hand and lead her inside.

The room had an estate feel to it. There was a large carved mahogany desk placed in front of the window, with a stately ornate high backed chair behind it. Torches lit the room everywhere, and there was a variety of paintings on the walls.

"What is this?" Rhiannon asked as she slowly circled from one spot taking in the expanse of the room.

"This is technically my office. Lately however, I've been spending my time in the Council Quarters. It's very dreary in here. Alas, I can accomplish much more in more comfortable surroundings."

"Then why are we here?" the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. "A tryst?" she asked.

He chuckled. "No. Take a seat, Rhiannon."

"There is but only one. At your desk." She pointed out.

"Indeed. Take it, my lady." The Sheriff instructed.

Rhiannon walked around in back of the desk and took her place in the Sheriff's chair behind it.

The Sheriff walked over toward the wall on the north side of the room, to the left of where Rhiannon was seated. There were several torches ensconced along it giving the room a warm glow, albeit dim. He found a particular block of stone set into the wall and he gently pushed on it. What happened next completely surprised her. The wall gave way and separated, sliding to each side, opening to reveal another chamber behind it. Rhiannon arose from her seat, her eyes wide and face incredulous over what she just witnessed.

"What is this, my Lord?"

"The vault." He said. "Or rather, one of them." He entered in and found a small chest on one of the shelves. He dusted it off and brought it out of the vault carrying it toward the desk. He placed it on the table. Rhiannon looked at the small wooden chest, then up at him curiously. The Sheriff produced a key out of no where and inserted it into the lock on the chest. It creaked when the lid was lifted. She peered inside. The box was lined in rich purple velvet. Her vision was assaulted by light reflecting from the myriad shiny objects nestled within. She blinked to focus her eyes better. They were jewels. She slowly looked up at the Sheriff and shook her head.

"What?" she whispered.

The Sheriff reached inside and immediately extracted the object he came for.

"Be seated." He said to her quietly. She sat back down and looked intently at him. Wondering what this was all about.

He went around the desk and crouched down before her. "My lady." He began. "When I asked for your hand, though I had given the matter much thought, I was rather unprepared. Alas, I've been remiss." He took her left hand and raised it up to his lips and kissed it. Then he produced a band of gold encrusted with brilliant diamonds and rubies and placed it gently upon her ring finger.

"This ring belonged to my mother. It was given to me many years after she died. I've always known that if I ever found a maid who was special enough for me to choose as my wife, this would be her engagement ring."

"My Lord, it is exquisite." She said softly as she looked at it, then up at him. "Your mother's ring…"

"Yes. But now it is yours."

"You really want me to have this? It is an heirloom."

"You shall be my wife. Yes, I want you to have it. Perhaps it will have more meaning to me seeing it upon your finger, instead of being locked away buried deep within a wall where nobody but me may look upon it." He took a breath and held her hands in his. "I have no memory of seeing it on my mother's hand. Alas, I do not remember her. But I am certain, though I never knew her, that this is what she would wish for me to do." He smiled.

"Thank you, my Lord. That you would trust me with this, gives it special meaning to me as well." She smiled.

"Then you accept it?"

"Yes, my Lord." She replied. "I accept." She embraced him, and kissed him tenderly. Just as he was beginning to forget where he was she broke free and stood up. She walked around to the front of the desk and placed her hands on her face.

"Oh, I wish I could run and tell Meridwyn right now. I should like to show this to her, she'd be most interested to see it!"

"Yes, I'm sure she would." The Sheriff agreed, amused by how animated she suddenly became. This gave him new hope for the success of his plan.

"I hope she awakens soon." Rhiannon said. "I should not have said what I did. I fear I've only caused your cousin to worry more about her."

"No, I don't think you did, my lady. Instead it just showed him how much you care for her, I'm certain of it. I'm sure she'll eventually waken, my love. And when she does, she has a surprise awaiting her too."

"You mean Guy's proposal?"

"Yes. Though I'm sure it won't come as much of a surprise since they've been together almost as long as a married couple anyway. My cousin has been holding onto his mother's ring to give to his bride too."

"He has?"

"Yes. Our mothers both died when we were very young. He was given his mother's ring as well to hold in safekeeping."

"She will be very happy. She loves him so." Rhiannon said.

"For a good many years, neither of us thought we'd take a wife." The Sheriff stated.

"I'm glad you changed your mind."

The Sheriff smiled. As he did light danced in his eyes. She was warmed in that moment. So content. Even though she'd been trying to fight it, and even in this darkened dreary room, she had to admit - she felt at home.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The prisoner shuffled restlessly in his confined space. His arms were strained but most of the time he was oblivious to the pain, since he had so much time to lend contemplation to his next chess move. Even in his situation, he had ways of staying a chess move ahead, if he would make the right move. And now that he understood his opponent's plan, he knew exactly what to do next. Indeed. The Sheriff's plan…

So, the Sheriff was planning to torment him for awhile before killing him? That was apparent, the Sheriff admitted it. Splendid! That would give him plenty of time to formulate a plan. He smiled. The Sheriff appeared rather disturbed by the mention of the points about his lady. He would continue this banter. The Fallen Knight grinned because he knew better than anyone that there were ways of sprinkling subtleties into conversations without making them appear too noticeable. Like an unspoken code that transferred into torment into one's mind. Just enough subtleties resulting in torment to further his plan to send the Sheriff to madness. The Sheriff wanted to play this game? He could endure it. Most of the time he existed on charm and mind manipulation. That was how the entire process began. When he began his mission to torment the Sheriff, and on a whim, stole himself under disguise into Nottingham Castle, having knowledge of the layout from the fateful day in autumn 1194. He charmed his way past the guards stationed outside of the Sheriff's consort's quarters. Why these two wenches, in his mind - the Sheriff's consorts, the Mistresses Catherine and Hecate, were granted guards to protect them, he could not begin to understand. But he was able to get past them. The guards, the two wenches thresholds, and later their fear. It was charm, and a process he learned of mind control. These were some of his gifts. In his tormented mind, this was how he perceived it to be.

And this gift he had within him, was going to prove itself a very blessed thing indeed. Because here and now in the predicament he was faced in, it was the only thing that was going to work in his favour. He was going to use it for certain to send the Sheriff insane. However, the first thing he was going to use his gift of charm and mind manipulation on would be the guards in the Sheriff's employ, right outside of his isolated cell door. At any point of contact. And as he thought about this, there was a familiar face appearing at the small window on the locked door of his cell. It was Hector, the young blond guard who protected him from Guy of Gisborne.

"I brought you food." The guard announced as he opened the door and entered in. He placed the tray on a high table up near to the prisoner's face, obviously unwilling to unchain the prisoner's hands.

"It would indeed be easier if you would unchain me." The Fallen Knight said.

"You know I'm not permitted." Hector stated.

"Then would you permit me to have my hood?" the prisoner asked.

"I cannot grant anything but the basic necessities without discussing the matter with the Sheriff."

The prisoner smiled at him.

Hector sighed. "Uhm, some of us have been wondering. Forgive me if this is too personal…" He immediately chastised himself for expressing any sentiment of concern. "but, what exactly happened to your uh…"

"Face?" the prisoner completed the phrase for him.

"Yes." The guard replied uncomfortably. The prisoner sensed this accurately.

"Why don't you ask your Lord Sheriff about it. He can tell you."

"What?" Hector asked, surprised somewhat, though he knew how the Sheriff used to be.

"It was he who caused it."

"The Sheriff wouldn't be so cruel."

The prisoner laughed for very long moment. "You jest! He murdered my father, my brother, many people of this village. You must have been there. Spare me your dear hearts Sheriff sentiments." He hissed. "I have no patience for it."

"Yes." Hector said, wondering why he was lingering so long to give the prisoner any ear to his irrational words. Yet he couldn't move from where he stood.

"What hold does he have over you?" the prisoner asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"None." He stated, then added nervously "I've lingered too long. I really must be going."

"Indeed. If you will consider the request to grant me my hood - it would be rewarded."

The Guard nodded weakly, in a moment of self doubt, and quickly exited the prisoner's cell. Immediately uncomfortable by his unexplained willingness to momentarily converse with the man he knew to be a murderer held in the dungeon by the order of the Sheriff.

The Fallen Knight smiled. He wasn't attempting to accomplish the granting of his request all in that moment. It was necessary to chip away at one's mind in little bits, in separate moments in time. Like a sculptor chipping away at stone gradually over time to reveal an art form, so was his work art. He would work on the guard slowly yet efficiently. He had to get the guard to follow another request, one that would go along with the hood that he knew the guard would eventually bring to him. He would grant that request. The Fallen Knight was as certain of it as there was a day and a night. The plan came as soon as he mentioned the hood to the guard. An added touch was when the guard inquired about his face. Why should the guard care at all what happened to his face? He was a prisoner? It was amusing how some things were coming together rather splendidly, despite the cursed predicament he currently found himself to be in. Just like the day he managed to charm his way out the Sheriff's dungeon three years ago. To freedom he thought. Little did he know then, he would suffer a worse fate than the hangman's noose – the fate he was destined for if not for his release. He wasn't finished. In no way was he finished with this game. He would keep reminding himself of the reasons that brought him here to this moment in time. There was work to be done.


	26. Chapter 26

Sometime later that evening after Lady Rhiannon had rested, and the Sheriff was meeting with some of his staff, she sent the Scribe with a message to give to Sir Guy of Gisborne. The message was a request for permission to visit Lady Meridwyn. Guy agreed. And now, Rhiannon was in Sir Guy's private chambers to briefly visit with her friend.

Mortianna was still tending to Lady Meridwyn at the bedside, proving her loyalty to the Sheriff and to Guy. She never seemed to leave her side, as no doubt she did once for Rhiannon. Lady Rhiannon approached her and placed her hand gently upon the witch's weary shoulder.

"Mortianna, why don't you let me take over for a spell?" She knew the Sheriff would be coming for her soon. Her time with Meridwyn would be short.

"Thank you, my child." Mortianna was relieved. "I shall return shortly." She said as she headed to the door. Grateful for a moment to sit quietly alone, and sip a cup of freshly brewed batwing tea.

Rhiannon turned back toward Meridwyn. She took the sponge from the basin on the nightstand at the left of the bed, and began to gently sponge Lady Meridwyn's forehead.

"So much news to share, my friend." Rhiannon said, as she seated herself upon the bed beside her. "Today my lover bestowed a treasured gift upon me – his mother's ring, as his engagement gift. I do wish you could see it. You are missing so much. And Guy, he loves you so…" her words trailed off in tender emotion.

The Sheriff and Guy approached the doorway just then. They entered the room quietly, behind where Rhiannon was seated on the bed bedside Lady Meridwyn. Rhiannon was unaware of their presence in the chambers.

"The Sheriff wants for us to marry soon. I long to speak with you. I want you to be at my wedding, Meridwyn. It's supposed to be the happiest day of my life. And I am happy, my friend. But I would be even more elated if you were there with me, sharing in such a glorious event." She mindlessly dipped the sponge in the basin beside her and continued her task.

"Where is Mortianna?" Guy whispered to the Sheriff as they stood motionless near the threshold.

"My lady probably sent her away. She has a mind of her own you know." The Sheriff winked.

"Yes. Indeed." Guy agreed.

"Meridwyn, you have much to live for." Rhiannon continued, startling the two men with the sound of her voice. They cast their glances back toward the bed.

"Everyone longs for your recovery. Guy needs you, my friend. I need you." She paused a moment. "I miss you. There's so much I wish to share with you." She stopped what she was doing a moment, then leaned in closer. "You are in the Castle now. You are safe. It is safe to wake up now, Meridwyn! She threw the sponge in the basin, it knocked the bowl and its' contents to the floor, startling Guy and the Sheriff. "Please wake up, Meridwyn!" she cried. "You're not being funny anymore. Why won't you listen to me?!"

"My lady…" the Sheriff called after her. Rhiannon turned around.

"Oh." She said, and stood beside the bed to greet them.

"Forgive me." She said. "I did not know we had company."

"Lady Rhiannon, where is Mortianna?" Guy inquired.

"She has been tending to Meridwyn incessantly. I offered to relieve her for a spell. She shall be returning here shortly to recommence her duties." Rhiannon replied.

"Is there any change?" Guy asked as he approached the bed, then took his place on the bed beside his lady.

"No." She replied quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Come, my love. It is getting late." The Sheriff said.

"Indeed." She replied as she went toward him. Then she turned back to face Guy.

"Sir Guy. If she should awaken, could you send word to us? It would make me feel better."

"Of course." Guy said.

It was a bit of a jaunt to the Sheriff's private chambers. His chambers and Guy's were located on opposite wings of the vast castle. As the Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon walked north, together along the endless darkened corridors, the Sheriff turned to speak to Rhiannon.

"My lady, you must be exhausted. You've endured so much these last few days."

"I am a little." She said as she leaned into him. She was not going to make this easy.

"I'm worried about her, my Lord." She continued. "But being with you brings me such comfort." She sighed.

Oh, Rhiannon. He thought. Why must you be so damn irresistible?

A short time later they were in the den just outside of the Sheriff's private chambers. Rhiannon broke free from the Sheriff's arm, and went toward the table by the fire. She took the silver decanter placed there in the centre upon a tray, and filled a goblet with the brandy from the decanter. His favourite year. The tincture of rapture he called it, made by the Benedictine Monks three years prior in celebration of the murder of Locksley. She handed it to him. He took the cup from her, touching her hand with his.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Making you comfortable. While I make myself comfortable." She said.

He looked at her with his eyebrow raised. She felt her body respond, as she always did whenever he executed that mindless, yet sensual expression.

"Sit." She said. "Relax. I shall return in a moment." Then she proceeded into the chambers.

The Sheriff took a seat upon the velvet couch in front of the fire, quietly sipping his brandy. Wondering what on earth his lady was up to now? He could only imagine. She was never short on surprises. He suddenly thought of the night just recently when she completely surprised him by demonstrating a brand new move on him, involving clever use of her mouth and her tongue. He stood up and took another large gulp of the tincture of rapture. This was insane! He had to stop thinking lustful thoughts if he would be successful in seeing his plan through.

He heard the doors of his private chambers open and turned to his right to look. Rhiannon stood there in a floor length burgundy velvet dressing gown. It appeared she was wearing nothing beneath it. It wrapped around her, hugging her perfectly curved body and tied with a satin sash, but it was open very low on her décolleté. Her breasts peaked there, teasing him to take note. To come to her. He took note. He swallowed. He could feel himself grow hard at the sight of her.

"Rhiannon…" He said in a low raw voice.

She walked slowly toward him. "My love, come to bed." She said, and she slowly cast that sensual sideways glance at him with her sexy green eyes. He would go crazy if he lingered too long in her presence.

"You are beautiful, my lady." He whispered as she continued toward him, until she was inches from him, when her scent was unmistakable.

He put his arms around her and drew her in close, kissing her hard. Hungrily tasting her lips, her tongue. She reveled in his touch. He picked her up then, and carried her into the bed chamber and placed her upon the four poster bed. He sat down beside her.

"What are you doing, my love? Don't you want to undress?" she asked, smiling.

"No." he replied quietly.

Rhiannon sat up and looked at him questioningly. "Why? Will you not be staying here tonight?"

"Yes. I thought it best if I stayed in the guest quarters. The room is directly across the hall." He said, his eyes downcast.

"My lord, but why now?"

"It would be better for you if we didn't share a bed until we are wed. My guards…" he was cut off.

"Guards? What does it matter what they think? You were the one who told me that. What difference does it make now, George? Everyone knows we are together."

"Indeed. But now…"

"But now, what?" she asked curtly.

"Now you are to be my wife." He said.

"I see. So it's perfectly acceptable for an unfamiliar maiden to be found in your bed, as I once was, but not to be found with the woman you're engaged to?"

"You do not understand." He began, but he had a funny feeling his point was moot in her eyes.

"It's perfectly fine to be the Sheriff's Mistress." She continued in her seething diatribe. "But God help us if the Sheriff's betrothed wishes to spend a night with him." Rhiannon said. She arose from the bed and pushed past him, pulling the edges of her dressing gown closer together. "Oh yes. I understand perfectly." She said coldly.

"My lady, you misunderstand me." He got up and walked toward her. "I desire you more than you know." He pleaded. His hazel eyes burning for her to understand his meaning. To believe.

"Yet you can control it so easily. So much for burning love. It seems the fire grows dim." She said.

"You couldn't be more wrong, my lady." He replied quietly as he headed toward the doorway.

"I truly hope I am wrong." She said, just before he turned his back on her to exit.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours later, Guy was startled from his sleep by a soft sound. He was in the chair beside the bed where Meridwyn lay. He straightened up and sat forward. Meridwyn was stirring on the bed. He rushed to the bed, sat beside her and lightly stroked her cheek.

"My love. Meridwyn! I am here." He whispered to her. She responded. She opened her eyes and fixed them upon his.

"Oh, you're awake!" Guy exclaimed.

"Guy?" she murmured softly.

"Yes, my love! It is I." He whispered tenderly.

"But where is?" she looked around the room, slowly taking in her surroundings, uncertain of where she was. "Someone attacked us! Who? Where is Rhiannon? We were traveling along a narrow path during a storm. It was dark. We couldn't see very well through the rain. Then my horse kicked up, that is all I remember." She sat up too quickly and felt her head begin to pound. She put her hand to the back of her head and fell back upon the soft down pillow.

"It was him. The man we were after. We captured him. He is in the Sheriff's dungeon presently. Lady Rhiannon is with the Sheriff, likely in his private chambers. We are at the castle, my dearest."

Lady Meridwyn smiled. "You found me." She said.

"No, my lady. You found me." He pulled her necklace from his pocket.

"My locket! Where did you get it?" she exclaimed.

"You had lost it. It was broken. I had the goldsmith repair it for you." He placed it gently about her neck. She picked up the heart shaped medallion and kissed it. It did bring her luck, it brought her Guy. Then she reached around his neck. He leaned in to kiss her.

"We are together, at last." She murmured.

Guy sat up abruptly. "I must send word to Lady Rhiannon." He announced.

"Rhiannon? Whatever for?" Meridwyn asked.

"She asked to be notified the minute you awakened. She is quite concerned for you."

"No. Absolutely not. Not now, Guy. I forbid it."

"What?" he asked, rather surprised by her response.

"Do you have any idea the whining I endured? She is quite taken with your cousin, my love. He is all I ever heard about for weeks! And now, you're telling me that she is with the Sheriff, alone, in his private chambers?"

"Yes, but…" he was cut off.

"Leave her alone." Meridwyn advised. "Give her this night with her lover. I dare say, she loves him as much I do you."

Guy smiled.

"Alright. But first thing in the morning I send for her. And – Thomas Crumwell."

"Who is he?" Meridwyn asked.

"The physician in charge of your care. The Sheriff's personal physician." Guy replied.

"Oh, alright if you must. But for right now, do not leave me?" she pleaded with her blue eyes. They suddenly danced with familiar spark and light.

"No, my love. Never. You are the world to me." Guy said as he kissed her, and stretched out upon the bed beside her.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was unable to sleep. He'd been tossing and thrashing about in his bed for what seemed to be hours since he left his private chambers. He got up and threw on his quilted black silk cloak. It was trimmed in fur and embellished in shiny gold and blue threads with a small train that gave him a very regal air. Underneath he wore only his black trousers. He crept out of his quarters and across the hall, to the den which lead into his private chambers.

Inside the bed chamber a candle burned on a table near the window. It cast a soft glow about the room, and upon his Lady's silken skin upon his bed. Rhiannon lay on the bed sleeping. She appeared naked beneath the navy silk sheets. He took a breath and advanced closer. He stopped suddenly when she began to moan in her sleep. She was remembering…

"Meridwyn!" she cried softly. "Get away from us! Leave her alone!"

He walked slowly, closer toward the bed. He knelt down beside it. When he was inches away from her, her eyes flew open, startling him.

"My Lord!" she cried.

"Rhiannon…" he said.

She surprised him by slapping the right side of his face.

The Sheriff felt the sting from her touch, but not in his cheek. As she raised her right hand again to him, he quickly grabbed it with his left hand, then covered her mouth with his right and whispered gruffly: "Control yourself, Rhiannon. This is not a game."

She roughly pulled his hand away from her mouth using her available left hand. "Really?" she answered with her eyebrow raised. Her green eyes danced in anger, and fiery passion. He was stirred. "Then what is it then?" she demanded.

He responded immediately, suddenly upon her, devouring her with his lips.

"My Lord?" she managed to whisper, as she attempted to push him away. "You confuse me…" she said breathlessly.

"You excite me." He whispered as he continued to tease her.

"Not long ago, you refused me." She pointed out.

"Yes, I know. I was a fool. I cannot sleep. I crave you, my lady." He said as he pulled the soft silky linens down to the level of her waist. Hmm….what was Plan B again?

"Does this mean we're not getting married." She asked, as he teased her breasts with his tongue.

"What?" he shot his head up to look at her. "No!" he replied impatiently. He needed her – now!

"Then you had better make a half ways honest woman of me, George, Sheriff of Nottingham." She smirked as she pulled the linens back up to cover her breasts.

"No." He whispered gruffly. "You shall be mine." And with that he quickly tossed the bed linens aside, exposing her momentarily until he covered her with his body. Hungrily tasting her and exploring her. Pleasing her until her virtue was dethroned at dawn.

In the early morning hours the Sheriff heard a knock on the door leading into the den outside of his private chambers. He arose and quickly dressed in his robe and his trousers. The Scribe stood outside the door of the den.

"What do you want?" the Sheriff asked, obviously irritated by the intrusion.

"A message from Sir Guy, Sire. Lady Meridwyn has awakened. He said you wished to be informed."

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. The corners of his mouth slowly upturned, spreading a knowing grin upon his face. Welcome Plan B! He cleared his throat and altered his expression, looking back upon his Scribe.

"Tell my cousin my lady and I will be by in an hour or so. She has not yet awakened."

"Yes, Sire." The Scribe turned to go.

"Wait." The Sheriff commanded as he grabbed his arm. "Have the kitchen send up a tray. Make sure there is fresh squeezed juice."

"Yes, Sire." The Scribe replied with a sigh, trying to conceal his impatience. "Anything else?"

"Indeed. When you speak to my cousin, tell him to prepare for another interrogation meeting in the dungeon." The Sheriff directed.

"Very well." He nodded. The Sheriff nodded a reply and closed the door. He went back in to the private chambers.

Lady Rhiannon was in repose lying on her right side facing the door where he stood, which connected the private chambers from the den. Her arms were hugging her pillow. The navy silk linens were only at the level of her waist. He sighed. She opened her eyes. At the sight of him standing there, realizing he was watching her, she sat up and pulled the sheets close around her to cover her.

The Sheriff came toward her and sat on the bed.

"It is a good morning, my angel. I have news." He smiled at her as he caressed her shoulder.

"Yes? What news, my Lord?"

"Lady Meridwyn has awakened. I've just been told the news."

"What?" she shrieked in glee and threw her arms around him to kiss his cheek. She was suddenly aware she was exposed and reached for the silk bed linens.

"No." He said as he took her hand. "You are beautiful, my lady. Such beauty deserves an audience. As long as it is only my eyes that are beholden to it."

She smiled. "Indeed, my love. But I must dress. I must get to her."

"We have some time, yet, my lady." He stated.

She sighed and laid back down upon the bed, hugging her silken pillow about her.

"It pleases me to see you content, Rhiannon." The Sheriff observed with a smile as he lay on his side beside her.

"I am. Meridwyn is going to recover. She will be able to attend our wedding." She said with a smile, clutching her pillow and looking up toward the ceiling.

"Indeed." The Sheriff agreed with a knowing grin. Fortunately she didn't notice. Funny how Plan B materialized with none of his doing? This would motivate his lady toward the altar. But he would still attempt to restrain himself, the original plan would continue….tonight.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The prisoner was wide awake. Acutely and accurately aware of the presence outside of his cell door.

"They are coming to speak to you." Hector announced.

"Indeed. The loathed Sheriff and his puppet, Sir Gisborne, no doubt?" The prisoner stated sarcastically.

"Hold your tongue!" the guard admonished. "I serve the Sheriff of Nottingham. You insult my Master!"

"Yes. I'm sure I do." The prisoner chortled. He sighed. "What news of my hood?"

"I told you I cannot grant you anything of luxury."

"Luxury? You fool!" the prisoner hissed. "Look at my face!" he boldly challenged.

Hector unlocked the door then and marched inside the cell. He stopped when he was close enough to cause the prisoner to squirm with discomfort. Hector grabbed him roughly by the collar.

"You try my patience. I owe you nothing!"

"True." The prisoner agreed. "But…just how well does he treat you?"

"Whom?" Hector asked impatiently.

"Your…master?" the prisoner whispered, drawing the hated words out slowly.

Hector took his hand away from the prisoner and looked away.

"If you could assist me…" the prisoner whispered.

"I will not!" Hector stated.

"You shall be rewarded." The prisoner continued, unfazed by Hector's determined reply. "You are the jailer of this cursed dungeon. Only you can convince him."

The handsome blond blue eyed guard looked at him, momentarily feeling a twinge of pity for the murderer before him. He cast it aside as quickly as it came to him.

"I am not the only jailer. Sometimes my station is at the castle gates." Hector replied weakly.

"I shall be grateful if I could only have my hood."

"I will see if it can be done. In the meantime, I warn you. The Sheriff doesn't suffer fools well…"

"Nor do I!" The prisoner stated, cutting him off.

"You would do well to cooperate in this next meeting with him." He paused to let the prisoner ponder that thought for a moment before he continued. "And then perhaps, your wish may just be granted."

"I see." The prisoner replied. "You're learning. That is good…"

Hector just looked at him with a puzzled stare for a moment. Then he proceeded toward the door. He turned back one more time before he exited.

"Remember what I said. The Sheriff and Sir Guy of Gisborne will be here to see you this day. Don't play games with him. The Sheriff is very clever. He'll see right through you." Hector strongly advised. He could hang for treason. What was he doing? Why did he feel the need to converse with the prisoner? To feed him information? He admonished himself, he was being lead into a lions den. He knew it, yet he couldn't escape. Some unknown power was luring him. He didn't know how or why. Yet either way, he knew he was already dead. And he already had a feeling whose hand would issue his fate...

"Yes." The prisoner murmured as he smiled to himself. For he already had a plan. He was so filled with anticipation as he rehearsed it in his mind during the night – in the roaring cacophony of the dark dank dungeon, he never fell asleep. There was no fun in it after all, unless there were games. Tied up – in this manner, inside of this cursed place, he needed amusement. There would definitely be games.


	27. Chapter 27

The Blacksmith couldn't believe the predicament he was in. Running from the Sheriff of Nottingham, yet again.

Once he was a soldier in King Richard's guard, just four years ago when he was stationed in the Holy Land. Right in Jerusalem, where most of the fighting took place. He was then captured by Saracen guards and held in a Saracen prison. That was where he met Lord Locksley, Azeem, and Peter Dubois, brother to the Maid Marian. He followed Lord Locksley and Azeem back to England, following their escape from the Saracen prison. When they arrived home on English soil, they soon realized there was another war to be fought. He parted ways with Robin that day, but their paths crossed later, where he became one of the merry men in Robin of Locksley's band of outlaws by default. He managed to escape after their last stand together in the Village Square in Nottingham village in 1194. He had to keep his identity a secret. He quickly learned a new trade as he fled back to the North. No one, not even members of his family knew he was alive. He could not have them think for a moment he was alive. To do so would place them in grave danger. So he fled. A few months later, somewhere along the way, he met his wife, the fair golden haired maiden of Sussex, Isabelle. They married within six months and continued their journey together north. To some he was dead. That was a lie. To Isabelle, he was noble Robert, the Blacksmith. Not an outlaw from Sherwood Forest, during the height of the time where Robin of Locksley reigned as a Prince in Sherwood, the Villages of Locksley, Nottingham, and Nettlestone. For roughly three and half years now, he was living as a fugitive. Running for his life, from the evil and notorious Sheriff of Nottingham. And now, the one thing he had wished for most of all to share with his wife – a child. Finally granted to him and Isabelle, but at what cost? When what should he discover, when it was too late to turn back, after raising the precious babe nearly a fortnight? The Sheriff of Nottingham's baby! Oh, yes. He reminded himself – and the Sheriff's Lady. Huh! Lady indeed! He chuckled. She cannot be much of a lady if she chooses to attach herself to him!

Robert had heard the Sheriff had changed, he even tried to reassure his wife of that just recently. It was well known throughout the land. It was difficult though to comprehend, because Robert was there that day. And he'd seen many other things before the day that Lord of Locksley was slain. Many other public hangings.

He couldn't let the child go. Yet, deep inside of him, he could not deny his only regret was that the child was related to the Sheriff of Nottingham. A man he wished he could forget about. And who was this dark lady who chose by her own free will to stand by this man? What manner of lady would willingly choose the Sheriff over any other man in England? The thought of it made his brain hurt. He must clear his head. He needed to think.

That was his problem. He took on everyone's problems. He'd been doing it since a young lad of sixteen. And a humanitarian to the point where he could forget about his own family if he thought the cause was worth the price. To benefit the greater good, he made many personal sacrifices.

Once he landed on English soil that misty rainy day in 1194, he said goodbye to Locksley and his new companion, Azeem the Moor, and went his separate way. Somehow their paths managed to reconnect days later though near the river crossing, when Robert was now traveling with a band of merry men from Sherwood Forest lead by a funny man, a giant they called John Little. That was the day the merry men met Locksley for the first time, and Robert met him again for the second time. He kept quiet though, he didn't mention he was acquainted with him. Robert was only passing through then. He was trying to gather up enough money together to get back to the little family he still had. The little money he had brought with him, stolen back in the Holy Land following the escape from the prison, was already used up. He was already stealing to support himself. It was going to take time. So Robin and Azeem once again were familiar to him, and this time they had Locksley's servant, Duncan with them. It wasn't long before Robin was the leader they all looked to.

He knew he should have taken his leave of him, long before. Because everything changed the day Locksley flew into camp on the spirited white horse belonging to the Sheriff of Nottingham. He had cut the Sheriff's face, stolen the Sheriff's horse, and a sack of food from a merchant in Nottingham as he made his escape. It was then Robert became a marked man. Even though he was a passing traveler, the mysterious stranger at their outlaw camp, he was now just as wanted as Robin, Little John, Will, Bull, Much, even young Wolf. Just because of his association. And that day, was the day Robert Wordsworth died. In a very tragic event that took place at sea.

In many ways he hated Robin of Locksley just as much as the Sheriff did at the time, even Will Scarlett before he became all soft and pansie like, like a woman! It was Robin of Locksley in fact, who was responsible for stealing his life from him. In some ways he was glad when he was told of the news by Azeem and Little John that the Sheriff had succeeded in killing Robin. Yet still, the Lord of Locksley could not give him his life back.

And so, he had to create a new one.

Everything was going so smoothly, so carefree, finally after years of worry that he would be found out. The Sheriff eventually stopped searching for the band of outlaws, guilty by association with Robin of Locksley. Another disturbing occurrence was taking precedence in the region surrounding Nottingham's Realm. Several maidens began to disappear. The matter was quite concerning. He soon became forgotten, which suited him perfectly. But now, the Sheriff would be seeking him again. And when the Sheriff discovered that not only was he the man who would not relinquish his child when questioned by two of Nottingham's guards when they first came to call, but in fact he was also one of Locksley's former men in the band of outlaws, he cringed at the thought of his punishment.

"Let's see…." He whispered aloud, as he counted off the charges on his fingers.

"One: Aiding and abetting an outlaw. Two: Assisting in the theft of three to four million, a good lot which came from the Sheriff himself. Three: Attempted murder of an appointed official. Four: Treason. Five: (Unknowingly) abducting an infant. Six: Said infant is…Curses! The infant of the appointed official you once tried to murder, with your friend, the outlaw – Lord of Locksley! Seven: Make that another count of treason!"

I will die, Robert thought. There will be no escape. There will be no reasoning with him. No negotiation. No trial. He knew how the Sheriff operated. My capture must not happen. Isabelle and the child – my child – need me. My only family, he thought. I must not be dead to them as well!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff escorted Lady Rhiannon to his Lieutenant's private chambers. He explained that he and Guy had some very important business they had to deal with. When they arrived, they found Guy outside of the door speaking with Thomas Crumwell.

"What news, Guy? Thomas?" he nodded to them both. "She is awake?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes, cousin. Finally." Guy said. They introduced Rhiannon to the physician.

Thomas spoke. "She is very weakened. She still needs rest and nourishment. She should very gradually add daily activities until she is fully recovered."

"Indeed." Guy agreed.

"It may be some time before she is completely restored."

"How long?" the Sheriff asked suddenly. Guy and Thomas were rather puzzled by his interest in the matter.

"A fortnight perhaps." Thomas replied. "Maybe longer."

The Sheriff tried to conceal his disappointment.

They said their goodbyes and the Sheriff left Lady Rhiannon with Mortianna who would take her in the chambers to see her friend.

The Sheriff and Guy started walking down the corridors together, then down the stairs and to the distal far end of the castle.

"Well, cousin. Shall we see how our leper insect friend fared overnight? Following the twenty five lashes issued in case you forgot?" the Sheriff chuckled.

"Yes." Gisborne replied. "That should help the bastard talk."

Several minutes later they were speaking with Hector just outside of the prisoner's cell, about twenty feet away.

"Good morning, my Lord Sheriff." Hector greeted him. He nodded to Guy. "Sir Gisborne."

"Good day." The Sheriff remarked absently, he barely noticed the guard.

"He will cooperate with you, I believe." Hector said carelessly. He immediately realized his mistake.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and raised his brow, suddenly taking note of the guard. "Why do you say that? Did you warn him I was coming?" The Sheriff asked slowly, deliberately.

"No." Hector replied as he looked away. The Sheriff drew nearer to him, then swiftly grabbed the young guard by his collar.

"Look at me!" the Sheriff demanded.

Hector looked up at him, slowly to meet his gaze.

"You do not speak to the prisoner. Rule number one! You swore this to me when I appointed you jailer! Have you spoken to that rotten leperous insect?!" the Sheriff hissed as he pointed to the prisoner's cell door with his free hand.

"Once. Very briefly." Hector admitted.

"Continue, boy!" The Sheriff pressed.

"He made a request."

"What did you tell him?" The Sheriff turned his head up slightly and continued to gaze at the guard with narrowed questioning eyes.

"I told him I'm in no position to grant requests. Until I discuss the matter with my employer, the Sheriff of Nottingham." Hector stated. He wished he could slow his racing heart somehow.

"Good." The Sheriff relaxed slightly. He let go of the guard. "We are not finished here, boy! Do not plan to venture very far in the next few moments. We need to continue this chat when this cursed meeting is over!"

"Cousin…" Guy attempted to interrupt.

"We shall be refreshing your memory on the rules of this little operation." The Sheriff went on. "When you are assigned – NO! Appointed – by me, to this specific duty, the jailer of my dungeon, you must be an example to the other guards!" The Sheriff instructed. He was too angered to stop himself now.

"Yes, sir." Hector replied.

"Sire?" Guy interrupted again.

The Sheriff clearly did not notice. He proceeded undeterred by Guy's interjection. "You never… never…converse with the prisoners!" He took his leather glove off with his teeth and used it to swat the guard's head. "Do you know the punishment if I find out you warned him I was coming?" the Sheriff growled.

"Yes." Hector stated.

"Aiding a prisoner is tantamount to treason! Do you understand me?" the Sheriff shouted.

"George!" Guy barked, startling the Sheriff and the young guard.

"What is it?" the Sheriff shouted, rolling his eyes, irritated to be interrupted when he was attempting to teach the guard a lesson.

"This jailer you speak to, this is Hector. He is the guard I told you about. He stopped me from killing the bastard before you arrived back in Nottingham." He paused a moment before he continued. "His is loyal to you."

The Sheriff shook his head slightly as he eyed the young guard curiously.

"Fortunately for you, your obedience may serve you well in this matter." The guard kept his gaze but did not speak. Now was not the time. "But we will still talk after this." The Sheriff said. "I want to know what that little insect wants so badly. Then I would like to know why you cared at all to listen to it!" the Sheriff huffed.

"Yes, my Lord Sheriff."

"Now, give us our privacy. I will send for you when I'm through here."

"Very well." The guard obeyed. He swallowed as he turned to leave. If the prisoner should disclose their discussions to the Sheriff, he would hang for certain.

The Sheriff turned toward Guy. "Now that your lady is recovering, you must keep a better eye on your charges!" He paused to put his glove back on and sighed. "Right under my own nose - I find out a guard, an appointed jailer in my employ - is conversing with a prisoner in my dungeon?! Of all of the unfortunate low life characters in this cursed place – him!" He narrowed his eyes as he leaned in closer to Guy. "Your golden boy chooses to speak to him!" the Sheriff spat.

"Yes, cousin. I have been somewhat distracted lately. But Hector had proven his loyalty to you, that day in your absence. I never perceived him to be a threat."

"You are my Lieutenant, Guy. You're clear on the rules. When we have a rat among us, you know what we must do. Let me put it to you simply. What do we do when we have doubt, cousin?" The Sheriff tested him, his jaw set in anger, his eyes turned to steel.

"We eliminate all doubt." Guy replied.

"Indeed." The Sheriff nodded. "You had better keep an eye on your golden boy. Or for the first time in over three years, I will be hanging one of my staff for treason!"

"Indeed." Guy replied. He remembered the last time, when the Sheriff had the guard hanged for failing to stop Locksley from escaping the castle grounds, the day the Sherwood bandit cut up the Sheriff's face, right in front of him!

"I haven't gone completely sentimental, Guy." He said, lowering his voice as they moved closer to the prisoner's cell door. "You might not think I'll do it. But if I find out that golden boy of yours is feeding information to that murderous leper in there – he will hang for treason!"

Guy nodded.

"You have a key." The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Guy produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door leading into the prisoner's cell.

The prisoner was suspended by chains still. A good sign the guard did not give in. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the lashings of the day before.

The Sheriff walked toward him and drew his sword. He extended it out toward the prisoner, and used the tip of the blade to move the rough fabric of the gauzy shirt over the fresh wounds on the prisoner's trunk.

"Slept well, I trust?" the Sheriff grinned.

"Like a baby." The prisoner slowly opened his eyes, and widened them, fixing them upon his enemy.

"Tell us your name." The Sheriff said, in a bored tone, as he moved the blade of the sword up close to the prisoner's neck. He moved in a little closer.

"I have no name."

"Do not play games with me!" the Sheriff barked as he snaked the blade closer still into the angry flesh of the prisoner.

"It is no matter. To me, or to you."

"You were once in Locksley's band of outlaws. Alas, I have not forgotten." The Sheriff hissed.

"Whatever." The prisoner mumbled.

"You betrayed me once before, Knight! For you were very convincing, when you were suspended, inverted from chains in this very dungeon, and you swore to me you would kill Locksley for me!" He put the sword down and back in its' sheath. "Oh yes indeed you were, my leperous little insect friend – very convincing."

"I would've killed him. I planned to." The prisoner muttered.

"Really? What changed?" the Sheriff asked impatiently.

"As if I would tell you!" the prisoner retorted.

"Oh you shall. You shall indeed." The Sheriff drew nearer to the prisoner. "I have not forgotten your friends. Don't think I have. If you would cooperate and tell me where to find the remaining men who once consorted and aided Locksley, it may just serve you well." The Sheriff cleared his throat. "I could issue a lesser sentence."

"Ha! You think I actually believe you?"

"What else do you have to believe in?" The Sheriff grinned. He looked around then extended his arms out beside him indicating the expanse of the cell. "Alas, nobody has come forward begging for your release."

"No matter what I tell you, you will kill me."

"Oh yes, it is true. But whatever you disclose decides if the manner in which it is executed will be quick and relatively painless. Or rather in a very slow, agonizing manner." He smirked.

"Perhaps." The prisoner toyed with him. "If you could grant my request."

"Oh yes. Your request! We'll see about that!" the Sheriff laughed.

"If you would only listen to your guard. Then I could tell you about the fugitives who once served with me." A beat. "Under Lord of Locksley." He enunciated his brother's title. He knew that would ruffle the Sheriff's feathers.

"Lord of Nothing, you mean! He certainly is of no use now to anyone, is he?" the Sheriff taunted.

"Did you speak to your lady, about what we talked about yesterday?" the prisoner asked.

"We're done here, Guy." The Sheriff announced, dismissing the prisoner's irrelevant comment.

"Talk to the guard. He knows my request." The prisoner stated as the Sheriff and Guy let themselves out.

When they were outside the door Guy went to find Hector, and brought him back to meet with the Sheriff.

"My Lord Sheriff." Hector addressed his master.

"Now, boy." The Sheriff said, as he put his hand on the guard's shoulder. "Tell me what the leperous insect needs or wants so very badly. So badly in fact - that you would pay any heed to it?"

"He wishes to have his hood."

The Sheriff laughed. "So you felt pity for him, didn't you?"

"No, sir."

"Why do you care if he should have his hood?"

Luckily Hector was quick witted. "Some of the guards have been complaining, sir."

"Excuse me?" the Sheriff asked for clarification.

"He is hideous to look upon, my Lord Sheriff. As it turns out, the prisoner and your guards in this matter, wish the same thing: to cover his face."

The Sheriff pondered this a moment. He looked to Guy. Guy shrugged. He could not advise the Sheriff one way or the other. He understood both points of view.

"Hmm. I suppose that is true." The Sheriff said. "But hear my words, boy! If this is part of a trick – if I find out you've been feeding information to this prisoner, conversing in any way – a warrant for your arrest will be issued. You know the punishment for betrayal."

"Indeed." Hector replied.

"He can have his cursed hood. And another twenty lashes!" The Sheriff instructed.

"Yes, my Lord Sheriff."

"Remember what I said, boy." the Sheriff said before he proceeded to leave. "Remember – the punishment for betrayal."


	28. Chapter 28

"That was curious, cousin." Guy said as they left the dungeon.

"What is?" The Sheriff asked. He was relieved to be out of that loathed place.

"We didn't learn anything new. You didn't ask about the child?"

"Good things come to those who wait, cousin. Who said that?" the Sheriff mused. "Whatever. The point is maybe now I can kill two birds with one stone. We find out about the outlaws who you thought I'd given up on. Plus, I'll get him to tell me about my child."

"I have a funny feeling he'll tell you anything, except with regards to your child." Guy pointed out as they walked together down the long corridors of the castle.

"I have my ways." The Sheriff remarked, curling the corners of his mustache up in a grin.

"That was years ago. Why are you suddenly so interested in the fugitives from Locksley's band?"

"It's not a sudden interest, Guy. It's an ongoing interest. I never rest when there's a matter of unfinished business." The Sheriff replied.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Is she awake?" Rhiannon asked Mortianna as they were just outside the door leading into the innermost chambers.

"Yes." The witch replied. "She's been asking for you." The witch turned and glided to the door, opening it for Rhiannon.

Meridwyn was still supine on the bed, but this time she was propped up by several pillows. She smiled when Rhiannon came through the door.

"Meridwyn!" Rhiannon exclaimed as she walked closer to the bed, taking in the sight of her friend.

"I'm afraid our adventures must be placed on hold for awhile." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon seated herself beside her on the bed. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Weak. Light headed. Unable to support my weight." She sighed. "It's going to be awhile, Rhiannon. This is going to kill me. I'm already bored of it!"

"You only just awakened, Meridwyn. You cannot be expected to be up dancing yet."

"Tell me what happened, Rhiannon." Meridwyn asked, suddenly changing the subject. "How long were we with – him?"

"That man, the one that George and Guy were looking for?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes."

"Not even one full day."

"They found us…" Meridwyn whispered.

"Yes, they did eventually." Rhiannon smiled.

"Sometimes I look at Guy, and it seems he's trying to tell me something. Something important. But he keeps withholding from me."

"So he hasn't mentioned anything to you that's important?" Rhiannon pryed. She was certain Sir Guy would've asked for Meridwyn's hand by now.

"No." Meridwyn shook her head. As she did her eyes found a light dancing upon Rhiannon's hand. The sunlight seemed to be reflecting from…a ring?

"What is that?" Meridwyn said, reaching for Rhiannon's hand.

"That – is my engagement ring from the Sheriff. It belonged to his mother once." Rhiannon said as she let Meridwyn take her hand to bring it up nearer to her eyes.

"It would seem the woman had some taste!" Meridwyn exclaimed. "It's beautiful. So, when are you to be married?"

"Well, that's just the thing, Meridwyn. Things have been, shall we say – rather strange?" Rhiannon spoke tentatively.

"Have you quarreled?" Meridwyn asked, unable to stifle a yawn. She was already beginning to tire.

"No. Not really…."

Meridwyn chuckled. "You either did, or you didn't, my dear."

"Well, I suppose not, but things have been very strange indeed."

"How so?"

"He's really pressing the marriage issue." Rhiannon said matter of factly.

"He's backing down now?" Meridwyn frowned. "I should have guessed. The whole thing never did suit his nature…" she said carelessly.

Rhiannon started to interrupt, but paused a moment to reflect on Meridwyn's words. It was then she realized, just how much she really did wish to be his wife. Yet, something was making her question him.

"No. He's trying to push me to do it soon. Very soon. For some peculiar reason, he's really rather keen on it." She paused before she added "A little too keen."

Meridwyn grinned. "If you only knew the scores of maidens I've heard over the years complaining over the exact opposite about him!"

"He's mentioned children too." Rhiannon pointed out.

"Of course, Rhiannon. That's what married people do!"

"This is somewhat different. But never mind that. I'll save this for a later time. Right now, you need rest again."

"Yes." Meridwyn whispered. She was feeling rather sleepy, despite herself.

Rhiannon kissed her cheek as she leaned in to say goodbye for now.

"We will talk again later, my friend."

"Forgive me." Meridwyn smiled. "I do feel weakened just now."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The prisoner looked up. Hector was outside of the door peering in through the barred window.

"You've been granted your hood." Hector announced.

"Careful. Aiding a prisoner is tantamount to treason. You're not permitted to speak with me, remember?" the prisoner taunted.

"It's too late now isn't it?" The guard said. "You heard him. Yet still you chose to say nothing." He said, curiously.

"It doesn't concern me."

"I must go to my other post at the castle gates. Later you will have your hood." Hector said.

"Indeed." The prisoner replied. And you shall have your reward, he thought to himself with a satisfied grin as he watched the young guard disappear from his view.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was meeting with some of his staff in the Council Quarters later that day. As the meeting droned on, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that he'd made a grave mistake when he spoke to the prisoner earlier. Guy was right. He got so distracted by catching his young guard up to no good, and perhaps attempting to distract the prisoner from talking so freely about how well he was 'acquainted' with Lady Rhiannon, that he forgot to gleen information about the most important matter at hand.

Curses! I let him get the better of me, the Sheriff thought. He would have to have a better plan the next time he went to meet with him. He had to find out where his child was. He had so many arrangements yet to make, for the child's safe return, until he could find it within himself to mention this to Rhiannon. And before that, he had his wedding to plan. He had to make all these things happen - and fast!

His thoughts were interrupted as the meeting continued.

"The people of Nottingham request a reduction in their taxes, sire." The Scribe spoke up, as he made his own notes which would be put into a final draft to submit to the Sheriff. It was his duty to take down all of the notes of their meetings.

"What is new?!" The Sheriff barked. "I've been hearing their whining for years over it!" He shook his head and lifted his silver water goblet to his lips and took a generous swig. He hated these meetings. Nothing ever seemed to get accomplished. Such tedium was difficult to endure, even at the best of times. He stood up abruptly.

"Does anyone have anything new, of value to tell me?" The Sheriff demanded. "Otherwise, I'm adjourning this meeting. In case none of you remembered, I have other matters needing my attention."

One of the Black Knights in the Sheriff's militia spoke up. "Some of your men are in need of new armour, my Lord Sheriff. The metal is becoming worn. Alas, it is no longer helpful in protecting the soldiers."

"What?" the Sheriff spat. "What are they doing with them? Using them for target practice for sword throwing?!" He barked.

"No, sir. But, some of your men are indeed in need of new armour. They asked me to bring this to your attention this day at our meeting."

"Fine, whatever! Give me the names of the men in need of it. I'll have the blacksmith measure them for new armour." The Sheriff huffed. He nodded to his Scribe. "I hope you're taking all these points down in your note taking."

The Scribe nodded. Just then they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter." The Sheriff called out. A page was standing in the doorway. He came forward as the Sheriff motioned for him to come in.

"A young maiden is here to see you, my Lord Sheriff." The page announced.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Who is she then? Another villager come to plague my door complaining about tax relief? Send her away!"

"No, sir. She says you knew her sister."

The Sheriff was puzzled, his curiosity piqued. He looked around the room. "Will you excuse us?" he commanded those assembled. "We shall continue our discussions next week."

The staff took their leave, and after a few moments the Sheriff summoned for the mysterious maid.

A guard brought the young maiden into the room. She was slender, with golden blonde hair, and blue eyes. Striking, yet not what he would interpret as beautiful, unlike his lady Rhiannon. She was wearing a light yellow gown which made her hair appear to be so golden it was almost reddish in colour. He recognized her immediately, and suddenly forgot what the page said about why she was here. It couldn't be! She had been missing for over two years!

He stood up. "Hecate! I thought you were…"

"No, my Lord Sheriff. You speak of my twin. I am Hestia, her sister."

"Indeed." The Sheriff sighed. He had a bad feeling his bad day was just about to get worse. "And what do you want with me?"

"My sister has been missing two and a half years." She spoke softly. He had to admit her cadence was a little sharp in comparison to that of her sister.

"Yes, I am aware of that." He muttered.

"You employed her as your consort." She began. "My sister and I shared everything with one another. She told me about it. Alas, she was quite taken with you, in case you didn't know."

He sighed and took his seat again. "Perhaps she was. I am sorry she went missing, but know this: I had nothing to do with her disappearance!"

"Yet you didn't execute a search for her." Hestia pointed out.

"I had other matters needing attention at the time."

"She went missing, yet you did not bother to look for her?" She repeated, unmoving.

"What is this about?" the Sheriff asked impatiently.

"I want to find her. Dead or alive." She paused a moment then added, "She deserves a proper burial if she be dead."

"Yes. I'm sure she does. And?..."

"I want you to search for her." She replied bluntly.

"You want me to search for her?" The Sheriff shook his head. "You wait until now! Well, it cannot be done now. I have a wedding to plan with my betrothed."

"How convenient. I see my sister's welfare was the last item on your list of priorities." She stood staring at him and gave him a moment to think on that. "I've heard about your lady. I saw her too. Quite stunning. I wonder?..." the impertinent woman mused.

"You're wasting my time." The Sheriff arose from his seat. It was time to call for the guards.

She spoke before he could summon them. "I wouldn't call for your guards just yet." She said as he was near to the door. As if she could read his mind. He turned around to face her. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest waiting for her to continue. Hestia drew closer to him. She was definitely more spirited than her sister. Even though Hecate meant nothing more to him than a means to fulfill a basic need, he was suddenly aware he'd met the right sister.

"I am certain your lady has no knowledge that you once had a consort in your employ, living right here in this castle." She said.

He sighed. He knew exactly where this was leading. "You think you can trick me?" the Sheriff inched slowly closer to her and grabbed her by the arm. "You dare to threaten me! I suppose you're going to tell me you want gold to shut you up!"

"No." she said, unfazed by him. "I don't want your money. Just a little of your time. I told you what I want. You! To find my sister."

"And I told you, it cannot be done. Not now. Some of my men are already on a mission in the north." He hesitated to say. He didn't know why he felt the need to justify his reasoning with this insufferable woman.

"Yes. And your wedding, you mentioned. And will she wish to marry you when she discovers the details of your past?"

The Sheriff tightened his grip on her arm. "I could easily arrange for the removal of your lying tongue!"

"What lies? Is it a lie that you employed my sister, for the sole purpose of servicing your precious needs?" Hestia asked without hesitation. Without fear it seemed.

The Sheriff shook his head, loosened his grip, and pushed her away. "We are finished here." He said.

"So you will not look for her?"

"In time. She's not the only maiden missing in this and two other counties. But we will find them. All of them." He said curtly. He paused a moment then added huskily, "And you will stay away from my lady, and this castle! If you need to speak to me, you may send a messenger." This was going to end, he decided. If Lady Hestia dared this nonsense again, he would have no trouble going back to his old ways, and signing the writ of execution to have her hanged.

Lady Hestia nodded. "I will be in touch." She said as she left.

He went back to his desk and banged his fist upon the table in a moment of rage. Curses! She dares to storm in here and attempt to blackmail me! He thought. Well, she would have to wait. His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. Excellent, another intrusion, he thought. He looked up. Lady Rhiannon was standing there before him. She stood in a light blue gown trimmed in delicate Spanish lace. She was a vision with her silky sable hair cascading over her creamy velvet skin. He came around to the front of the table and leaned against it to face her with his hands gripped on the edges of the table to steady himself.

"My Lord?" she said as she came closer to him. "Something troubles you?"

He attempted to conceal his anger over the previous meeting with a half hearted smile. "No, my Lady. Just the usual matters that are part and parcel of my duties here in Nottingham."

She knew there was more to it than that. She could tell by his expression. The steely gaze, the way his jaw was tightly set. The way his body appeared to be ill at ease. She moved closer still until she was two feet away. He only stood there looking at her, and she could tell his mind was elsewhere.

"I ran into a strange woman on my way in here to see you. She had just come from this chamber. I've never seen her before." Rhiannon said.

"Yes." He said as he turned to look away from her. "A villager who wanted to speak to me about her taxes."

"I didn't think you met with your townspeople individually?"

"This was an error in communication. You're right, I don't meet with them individually. My guard misread her intentions." The Sheriff said a little too quickly. He hated to lie to her, but she could not know. He had taken great pains for her not to find out about Catherine and Hecate. If she ever did, he doubted she would ever marry him, whether or not she found out she had borne his child. Damn that cursed, evil, conniving little twin for her boorish games! He had no patience for it. He was feeling the anger rising in him. It was taking a great deal of control to keep it on a low simmer as he stood there facing his lady.

She moved closer still. "What troubles you then?"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "My lady, there's always things for me to concern myself over. I've been away for a time, and now I must sort out the matters that have been waiting for my return back to Nottingham." He paused a moment and sighed. "You mustn't concern yourself with it."

"If you are to be my husband, what concerns you concerns me." She said.

He smiled. She was so understanding. "I will do my best to share some of these matters with you in the future, my lady. But right now, we have more pleasant topics to think about." He was glad to shift his focus from the rest of the miserable day he'd had thus far.

She swallowed. "Yes. Indeed." She whispered.

"We have a wedding to plan." He said.

She went over toward the window and gazed out of it. "Yes." She said. Here it comes, she thought. She knew this discussion would be happening soon after their arrival to Nottingham.

He slowly came up behind her and put his arms around here. She leaned back into him, still gazing out the window, and held his arms with her hands.

"Marry me, Rhiannon." He whispered. " The sooner the better."

"When?" she asked, hesitantly.

"You need time, I know." He turned her around to face him. She looked up at him, he suddenly became so animated. His eyes danced with light. He made it difficult to be annoyed with him. He smiled as he continued.

"I shall arrange for all of the necessary assistants to aid you. I know the best Seamstress in Nottingham. She can help you fashion a gown of your choosing. We need a Chef for the feasting. My own personal Chef, Jean Louis, makes wonderfully tasty dishes and confectioneries. I know a man in Nettlestone who has the best greenhouse this side of London. You shall have any blooms you desire." He paused and fixed a sultry gaze upon her. "You shall have all the help you need, my lady." He smiled.

"I'd like Meridwyn to be my witness." Rhiannon said. "It will be some time before she is well enough to attend, my Lord. Alas, she is rather weakened."

"Yes. Well then, we shall wait until then, my angel." He brought her body into his and embraced her, stroking her hair. He kissed the top of her head. "Of course, you should have her there to share in our special day."

Damn the Gods! He thought. Why was nothing moving along in the right direction? And at the proper speed?

"Mortianna and the physician are taking excellent care of her though, my Lord." Rhiannon said. "I am sure she will be well in due time."

Mortianna! Why didn't he think of her before? Of course! Mortianna would know what to do. She practically helped to bring Lady Rhiannon back from the dead! She would have a means at her disposal to speed up Lady Meridwyn's recovery. He was so elated to have thought of it, the first bit of hope this entire cursed day, he placed his hand under Rhiannon's chin and tilted it up toward him. He bent down and bestowed upon her soft lips, a long, languid, passionate kiss.


	29. Chapter 29

Later that evening, the Sheriff decided to venture back into the dungeon for an unexpected one on one meeting with his prisoner. He went looking for his Scribe to accompany him. He found him in the corridors near to where his office was located, the one with the vault.

"My Lord Sheriff." The Scribe greeted him.

"You're coming with me." The Sheriff said. "First I need you to retrieve your writing tablet and chalk. You're going to take some notes for me."

"Yes, my Lord. Where are we going?" The Scribe asked.

"To the dungeon. You're going to write down every little thing that miserable little insect tells me as I interrogate him."

"Shall I send for Sir Guy to accompany us?"

"No." the Sheriff said. "We're going alone."

"Very well." The Scribe agreed.

"Meet me outside of the dungeon when you've obtained your writing supplies." The Sheriff commanded.

Fifteen minutes later they'd arrived at the dungeon. The Sheriff looked for Hector but he wasn't there. He approached one of the guards.

"Where is my jailer? The one called Hector?"

"His post is at the castle gates, my Lord. He returns to his duties here at dawn, but he said he'd come back to check on things before he retires for the night."

"Good. I want you to tell me if you notice anything strange about him. Particularly, in his dealings with our leperous, insect friend. The one held in isolation." The Sheriff instructed.

"Sir? I do not follow…"

"Tell me if he's taking the time to talk with him." He paused a moment. "You do know it's against the rules to converse at any length with the prisoners?" the Sheriff tested him.

"Yes, sir. I am aware of that." The guard answered.

"It seems our jailer had forgotten that point once. Since you're here a good deal more than my Lieutenant can be, I need you to be my eyes."

"As you wish, my Lord." The guard said.

"Now, take me to the prisoner's cell." The Sheriff commanded. He nodded to the Scribe to follow them.

The guard lead them over to where the prisoner was being held.

The prisoner heard a noise, a sound outside of his door. Good. The guard was back. He looked up. He frowned. It was not the young blond guard. It was the Sheriff. The loathed Sheriff of Nottingham.

"I suppose you thought I wouldn't be back this day." The Sheriff said as he and his Scribe entered the cell.

"It's your dungeon, my good Sheriff." The prisoner smiled slyly at him.

"Cut the nonsense, Knight! You know why I'm here." The Sheriff said with a hiss.

The prisoner looked over at the Scribe, then back at the Sheriff. "Who is that with you?" he nodded towards the Scribe while still maintaining his gaze. The Scribe took a seat on the lone chair in the corner of the room.

"My Scribe. He's going to be taking notes."

"And where is your little puppet, Sir Gisborne?"

"Mind your tongue! That is my cousin you speak of!" the Sheriff raised his voice. "Alas, we are alone. My Lieutenant is not aware I am here." He drew his sword, holding it up in front of him, and curled his mustache up into a sly grin as he added slowly: "And isn't this cozy?"

"Indeed." The prisoner nodded.

The Sheriff drew closer to the prisoner and put the edge of the blade from his sword against the prisoner's neck, as he grabbed the man's collar with his free left hand.

"You are going to talk." He fixed his steely gaze upon him. "What have you done with my child? Answer me!"

The Scribe looked at the Sheriff, then the prisoner, then back at the Sheriff, rather puzzled. Child? The Sheriff has a child?

"My, my. You actually do care." The prisoner whispered with a grin.

"Tell me!" the Sheriff barked.

"I left the child on the doorstep of a home in a small village. If you read the second scroll I left for you, you would already know that."

"Where?" the Sheriff prodded.

"I do not know."

The Sheriff responded by inching the blade in closer to the man's neck, until it drew a little blood, but not enough to seriously harm him….yet.

"Far in the north." The prisoner said. "You should know, you were in the vicinity once. It was nightfall when I found a home to leave the child there."

"Who has my child?"

"Why do you care so much about it?" the prisoner said, then paused to lick his lips. "Especially after what I told you about your lady and me?"

The Sheriff shook his head and drew a heavy sigh. The prisoner continued.

"How is your lady now? She had a time when she delivered the child. But she's a feisty one. I know that very well."

The Sheriff could no longer endure to hear this. "How would you like it…" the Sheriff said slowly in a hiss "If the Sheriff – got your tongue?!" He put his sword into it's sheath then grabbed him with both of his hands quick as a flash. "You keep lying to me, I shall have that tongue of yours removed!"

The Scribe shuddered. The prisoner swallowed and said nothing for a few moments. The Sheriff threatened him with this before, three years ago. He remembered those words more than any other of what the Sheriff said to him then. He could hear the words ringing in his memory, the Sheriff's voice coming through now loud and clear saying: "_If you fail…I will personally remove your lying tongue." _Oddly, he remembered fearing that form of torture more than he did having his neck stretched by the ugly, evil executioner at the gallows. He still feared it, somewhat.

"Maybe you should ask your, uh…Lady about it then. Perhaps you will believe her." The prisoner said unmoved.

The Sheriff responded by delivering a swift punch into the prisoner's abdomen. The prisoner let out a mild groan, but otherwise seemed unfazed. The Scribe closed his eyes and looked away. The Sheriff noticed as he turned to make certain the Scribe was fulfilling his duties.

"Pay attention you little ferret!"

The Scribe nodded.

"How far away from the place you held my lady was the home where my child was taken to?" He asked the prisoner.

The prisoner caught his breath.

"Tell me!" The Sheriff demanded.

"I do not know. Maybe a day's journey."

"Which direction?"

"North." The prisoner replied.

The Sheriff looked to the Scribe. "Are you getting this?"

The Scribe nodded an affirmative.

"Good." The Sheriff let go of the prisoner. "That is better. See how things can be so much easier for you when you choose to cooperate?" the Sheriff grinned. He clasped his hands together in front of him and began to pace about the cell. "Now, tell me what you know about the remaining fugitives from Locksley's band of outlaws."

"I do not know where most of them are."

"Give me their names."

"Never." The prisoner said.

The Sheriff advanced closer to him. "Give me their names….or die." He said slowly.

The prisoner shook his head. Where was that guard?

"The names!" the Sheriff reminded him.

The prisoner shook his head and sighed. "Well, let's see now." He relented. "There was John Little. Robin called him Little John." He swallowed.

"Continue." The Sheriff said.

The prisoner was hard pressed to conceal his frustration. Things were not going as planned. He would have to at least continue providing their names. "There was Bull, Much, Robin's companion, the Moor, Azeem, and one other. Though he kept to himself."

"Whom?" The Sheriff asked as he placed his hands around the prisoner's throat.

"It's difficult to recall. He was never really one of us." The prisoner whispered. He was finding it difficult to breathe.

"If he was consorting with the likes of you and Locksley, he was one of you!" The Sheriff growled.

"He was only with us a short time." In truth, he was with the band of merry men before his brother came on board.

"You try my patience." The Sheriff said as he suddenly let go of him. The Scribe arose from the small chair he was seated upon to take his notes, thinking they were leaving. The Sheriff looked over at him and nodded.

"Be seated Scribe. We are far from being finished here." He said.

The Scribe obeyed. The Sheriff drew his sword again. The Scribe and the prisoner watched him curiously, as he walked back toward the door. On either side of the door, flaming torches ensconced the walls. He extended his sword, and placed the tip of the blade directly into the flame. He let it linger there until the tip glowed bright orange. Then he took it and went back toward the prisoner. He stepped closer toward him and held the sword with a steady hand, holding the tip an inch away from the prisoner's face. Close enough, that the Fallen Knight could feel the heat emanating from it.

"You will give me his name." The Sheriff whispered.

"Robert." The prisoner said. "That was it - Robert."

The Sheriff nodded for him to continue.

"What was his surname?" The prisoner voiced his thoughts aloud, as he pondered for a moment. And then it came to him. What did it matter to him if the Sheriff knew the man's name or not? The prisoner didn't really care. "Oh yes…Robert Wordsworth."

The Sheriff turned again to his right and looked at the Scribe. "Are you taking this down?" He shouted.

"Yes, my Lord Sheriff." The Scribe replied.

He looked back to the prisoner. "Where are these men now?"

The prisoner shook his head. The Sheriff advanced the hot orange tip of the blade closer still. Close to the prisoner's left eye. The prisoner saw it and swallowed.

"They scattered." He answered.

The Sheriff leaned his face in closer. "Scattered – where?"

The prisoner did know where most of them went. But he wasn't going to say. He would have to say something though. He never really did care for the passing stranger at their outlaw camp, and he knew Azeem was too far away for the Sheriff to bother to find him. Alas, the Sheriff had more pressing matters in his own country to deal with. So, he relented.

"Lord Locksley's Moorish companion, Azeem, went back to his homeland to marry his lady Jasmina. I do not know where John, Much, and Bull went to. After that day in the Village Square…alas, the day you killed Lord Locksley, I never saw them again."

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "And what about…"

"Robert Wordsworth." The Scribe offered, suddenly speaking up.

The Sheriff smiled. He looked toward him. "Well done, Scribe." He said. He looked upon the prisoner. "At least someone is listening to me."

The prisoner spoke. "I'd heard Robert continued his journey north, where he was from."

"North." The Sheriff mumbled. Why was every cursed thing needing his attention located in the north? The only good thing that came out of the north was Lady Rhiannon!

"Good!" he said to the prisoner. He called for the guard.

"Yes, my Lord?" the same guard he'd spoken to before was quick to answer the summons.

"Bring me a small bucket of water." The Sheriff instructed. He looked back to the prisoner. "So, I see you've not been given your precious hood yet?"

"Not yet. But I'm sure it will be coming." The prisoner replied.

"Indeed." The Sheriff grinned. The guard returned with the bucket of water. The Sheriff walked toward it, and placed the tip of the blade of his sword in the water to cool it. Then he nodded to the Scribe. The Scribe arose from his seat.

"Very good, Knight." The Sheriff said. "We're finished with our discussions….for now. You sleep tight. I'll be back again sometime for – more pillow talk." He grinned.

The prisoner nodded. Oh yes, the prisoner thought, and you shall have the surprise of your life the next time you come to see me.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

There was one more visit the Sheriff needed to make that evening before the day was through. He went to his private chambers. Lady Rhiannon was not there. He guessed she may be visiting Lady Meridwyn. It suited him perfectly. She would wonder why he would need to go off somewhere so late if she were present in the chambers. In the den outside of the private chambers he went to the table in front of the fire and poured a libation of his favourite brandy. As he sipped it he was satisfied. The cursed day finally took a turn for the better. He finally got somewhere in his interrogation with the prisoner. Duke Farnsworth, Mordrid, and the rest of his men were stationed in the right vicinity if the prisoner was telling the truth. The Duke and his assistant, Mordrid, were highly skilled in investigation techniques. He'd thought of rejoining them, but because they were so far away, he decided to wait for some word. He knew Duke Farnsworth well enough to know that if he had a lead, even a strong hunch, he would send word to him.

He set the goblet back on the table and went to the other door in the den. He opened the door that lead down the stone circular stairs to Mortianna's lair and proceeded.

Mortianna was standing over a large cauldron positioned over the fire, brewing a concoction that created wisps of smoky yellow haze over the pot. She heard footsteps and looked up.

"My Lord Sheriff." She said as he came towards her. "What brings thee here at this hour, my child?" She asked.

"You've been assisting in the care of Lady Meridwyn." He said.

"Indeed." She answered. "Alas, the Lady has shown signs of improvement. Your cousin granted me a night off."

"Yes, Madam." He said. "And you were instrumental in restoring my Lady to health." He paused and cleared his throat, then said to her softly: "I never did thank you."

She looked up from stirring her brew and smiled. "I knew you were grateful." She added more water to the cauldron so her mixture would not burn as it continued to liquefy. Then she glided toward the Sheriff in her floor length black and silver shiny robes. She indicated the two chairs at the small table nearby. He took a seat. She sat across from him.

"What troubles thee, my child?" She asked.

"Two things, Madam." The Sheriff began. "First, I need for Lady Meridwyn to recover a little – shall we say? – Faster."

Mortianna raised her brow curiously. "What does her recovery have to do with you?" A beat. "She is Sir Gisborne's Lady."

"Yes. But I want to hasten my nuptials with my bride. Lady Rhiannon wishes for Lady Meridwyn to stand with her when we exchange our vows. At the moment, Lady Meridwyn is too unwell to do so." He said.

"I do not follow." Mortianna said. "Why is there a need to hasten the marriage?"

The Sheriff shook his head impatiently. He hated having to explain himself, yet he knew Mortianna would not agree unless he revealed more to her.

"I need for my betrothed to be my wife – before she finds out about the child." He said bluntly. Mortianna gave him a curious look. He continued. "My lead investigator is stationed in the right vicinity to locate the infant. I learned that just moments ago when I interrogated the prisoner. I have confidence Duke and Mordrid will indeed find my child. The child will be coming home to me and my Lady. And when that happens…"

She cut him off. "You believe she will not marry you when she finds out about it. Indeed. You wish to already be wed when the day arrives."

"Yes." The Sheriff said, grateful she understood his dilemma.

"It is a difficult request." Mortianna said as she arose. She walked over to the fire. Beside the cauldron was another small pot. She took a ladle and used it to pour some fresh brewed batwing tea into two stoneware cups. She returned with them to where he was seated and offered him one. He took the cup, then sipped the tea as she continued. "I take my orders from Sir Gisborne in regards to Lady Meridwyn. Alas, she is his Lady." She stated as she sipped her tea.

"Who is your master?!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "Guy is my Lieutenant. You both work for me!" He reminded her.

"Indeed." She said, still sipping her tea.

"You follow my orders when directed." He continued. "It is in their interest too. Meridwyn recovers at a greater speed. Alas, my cousin plans to ask for her hand. She cannot marry him while confined to her bed!"

Mortianna put her cup on the table and sighed. "I do have some herbs at my disposal that may serve your purpose." She said as she rubbed her chin lightly with her long gnarled fingers. "It could hasten her recovery by seven days."

"Do it." The Sheriff instructed.

"It will take some planning." Mortianna said. "Alas, your physician is the one in charge of her care. I've only been assisting in the matter. He is an intelligent man, he may suspect witchcraft."

"Thomas Crumwell is not to know any of this!" The Sheriff instructed.

"If he suspects it, he'll report me to the Bishop." Mortianna pointed out.

"As long as you're employed by me, and you follow my orders you shall be protected." The Sheriff reassured her. He took another sip of the batwing tea then added: "My physician need never know. In fact, no one is to know about this discussion."

"Indeed." Mortianna said. "It shall be done. Now…what is the other matter you wish to speak to me about?"

"Do you recall the two consorts who once lived in this castle, then whom disappeared?" The Sheriff asked tentatively.

"Catherine and Hecate." Mortianna confirmed. "Yes, I remember them well. Hecate was rather fascinated with spells and potions. She oft times sought my knowledge in the matters."

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. He had no idea that Hecate had dealings with Mortianna. A little witch in the making. No wonder she was such a beast in the bed chamber, he thought.

"Today I had a strange visit." The Sheriff said.

"From one of them?" Mortianna asked suspiciously.

"With a relative. Hecate's impertinent sister, Lady Hestia." He huffed.

"How may I be of assistance?" Mortianna inquired.

"What can you tell me about her? The rotten little wench dared to threaten me!" He spat.

Mortianna nodded to the Sheriff's cup of batwing tea. He picked it up and drank from it, eventually draining the contents then handed the cup over to her. She squinted her eyes as she peered within at the patterns scattered along the base of it. Her eyes glazed over in that familiar fashion when she was in her psychic state.

"Alas, Hecate has an identical twin." She remarked softly.

"Yes. Hestia." The Sheriff confirmed.

Mortianna raised a hand to silence him as she continued to gaze into the cup.

"She asked you to find her sister." Mortianna said. "I can see your meeting with her today in the Council Quarters."

"Yes." He said.

"What she told you was a lie." Mortianna stated matter of factly.

"Which part of it?" The Sheriff asked. "Tell me, what do you see?"

"Almost all of it." Mortianna replied. "Her intentions are not honourable. She wishes to find her sister, that is true. But not for the reason she told you. She is very jealous of her you see…" her words trailed off.

Another of Mortianna's riddles. Why did it always take her so long to explain herself?

"Jealous of what, Madam?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"Jealous of you." Mortianna said without hesitation.

"I beg your pardon, Madam? I do not follow you?"

"Lady Hestia thinks she is in love with you. She has been watching you from afar for many years. She is indeed infatuated."

The Sheriff widened his eyes. Lady Hestia? Infatuated with me? He thought. She certainly had a strange way of showing it!

"It is a dangerous infatuation." Mortianna continued. "She wishes to destroy all that stands in her way of getting to you. She wants you to search for her sister. If you find Hecate alive, she plans to kill her. And while you are away to search for her sister, she plans something else…"

"To get to my Lady." The Sheriff concluded.

"Do not go looking for Hecate. I can tell you already she is dead anyway. The prisoner who waits in your dungeon, ended her life a fortnight after her disappearance." Mortianna warned.

"I wasn't planning to anytime soon." He said.

"She hates her sister because she was successful in gaining your attention, albeit for a brief time."

"So much for sisterly love." The Sheriff said. "What am I to do, Mortianna? She threatens to tell Lady Rhiannon about her sister being my consort!"

"Two choices, my Lord. Either you cut out her tongue…"

"She will still be able to write." The Sheriff interrupted.

"Or you can kill her." Mortianna suggested.

"I've changed my ways, Madam." The Sheriff said. "There must be another way."

"If you don't wish for Lady Rhiannon to know the truth – then the only thing to do is to silence Hecate's sister forever, because she will attempt to destroy your marriage plans." She paused then added: "And you may not be successful in stopping her."

The Sheriff reached for Mortianna's barely touched cup of batwing tea and took a generous gulp from it, as she looked at him curiously.

He felt backed into a corner. Which would be worse for Lady Rhiannon to know? That he once employed a consort to service his needs in the bed chamber? Or, ordering the execution of someone Rhiannon would perceive to be an innocent maiden?

There was no choice. Lady Rhiannon would be his Lady Nottingham, no matter what he would need to do to make that happen.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was very late. The prisoner was pleased to see the guard had returned.

Hector unlocked the door leading into the Fallen Knight's cell. He was holding the familiar tan coloured cloth before him.

"I've brought your hood, as you requested." Hector announced.

The prisoner smiled. "Indeed." He said.

Hector drew closer toward him and held it over the prisoner's head, positioned to place it over him.

"No." The Fallen Knight protested. "Would you be so kind as to unchain my hands?"

"You know I cannot!" Hector said emphatically.

The prisoner had already rehearsed what his speech would be for just this moment. "It must be placed a certain way. Look at my face. The seams on the inside of it can be very irritating to the flesh if it does not sit right. Only I know how to place it so it won't be that way." He said smoothly.

"Then maybe it's best if you go without it." Hector said.

"The Sheriff came to see me tonight." The Fallen Knight said. "Looks like he's not planning to kill me too soon. It would be easier on us all if you permitted me to cover my face." He cast an innocent look upon the guard.

Hector drew in a sigh. "Nobody must know that I gave in. Do you hear me? Nobody!" He exclaimed as he slipped a small key into the tight metal cuffs that circled the prisoner's wrists, which in turn connected to chains suspending his arms above his head.

The prisoner's arms were free from bondage at last. He stepped closer and took the hood from Hector.

"I am grateful." The Fallen Knight said. "And now – it is time for your reward…"


	30. Chapter 30

The Sheriff waited in the den outside of his private chambers. Lady Rhiannon still had not yet returned. It was very late. Surely she wasn't still visiting Lady Meridwyn? He poured a little more of his brandy and took a sip to warm him. For some strange reason he felt a slight chill. He realized it was since Mortianna had revealed the true intentions of Lady Hestia. He wondered how anyone could be so cruel as to plot to kill their own sister, all in the name of lustful pursuit of a man. Him. He shuddered. Life was becoming increasingly complicated. More so since his return to Nottingham.

There was a sudden knock on his door. He went to open it expecting it to be one of his guards announcing Lady Rhiannon's arrival. Instead it was Guy.

"Cousin." Guy greeted him.

"Good evening, Guy. How is your lady?" the Sheriff asked.

"She is very slowly improving." Guy replied.

"Good. Come in! Share a goblet of brandy with me. We have much to celebrate, cousin. Our ladies are back home with us safe and sound." He put his hand on Guy's back to lead him into his den. Guy looked at him curiously.

"There's some things I must share with you, before you retire. Funny you should drop by." The Sheriff said. He closed the door and went over to the table to pour a goblet of brandy for Guy. Guy took it from him.

"My favourite year…tincture of rapture." The Sheriff smiled. "Much smoother than modern varieties." He winked.

"Yes." Guy agreed as he took a sip from it. "What is it you wish to talk to me about, cousin?" he asked.

"I saw our leperous insect friend earlier." The Sheriff stated.

"You did. But – you did not send for me?"

"I decided this time to go alone. Your place was with your lady."

"Oh." Guy replied.

"He finally gave me some information. He told me the whereabouts of my child. And he also provided the names of the fugitives from Locksley's band. I was able to get the location of one of them." He said as he raised his left eyebrow.

"Good news indeed, cousin!" Guy exclaimed.

"And one other thing to share as well." The Sheriff frowned.

"What is it, George? Is it regarding the infant?" Guy questioned, his curiosity piqued.

"No. I had a visitor come to see me today. Alas, it was Hecate's sister, Lady Hestia, her twin." He stared into his goblet of brandy.

"What did she want?" Guy asked.

"In a nutshell, she wishes me to find her sister."

"Bad timing." Guy remarked. "Did you inform her it's not possible?"

"Yes." The Sheriff paused a moment. "Her reasoning to find her is not what you may think." He took a sip from his goblet. "She is most unlike her sister. Her intent is to stop my wedding. She plans to talk. To tell my Lady everything!" The Sheriff exclaimed in a moment of anger. He already knew what he must do, even before Mortianna advised him.

Guy shook his head. "Lady Rhiannon would not be pleased to hear you once had hired courtesans in your castle."

"Indeed. We must stop her, cousin." The Sheriff drew closer to Guy and raised his left brow. "I cannot just order her execution. Technically she has committed no crime - yet. Though she is blackmailing me." He muttered his disgust. "The point is, for just this once, let us go back to our old ways." The Sheriff fixed his eyes upon his cousin. Guy read him like a book.

"You want her dead." Guy guessed accurately.

"You're very perceptive, cousin." The Sheriff grinned.

"When?" Guy asked. His mouth became suddenly dry. He took a sip of the brandy.

"As soon as possible. Find out where she lives, what she does all day long. We could catch her off guard." The Sheriff said.

"There must be another way, cousin?" Guy pleaded.

"No, Guy." The Sheriff said. "There is no other way. I must stop her."

"Very well." Guy agreed reluctantly.

"I want her dead by the next full moon." The Sheriff instructed. "Alas, my lead investigator cannot be here to look into the matter. I'm assigning you to observe her and provide me the details."

"As you wish, cousin." Guy said.

"Good." The Sheriff smiled, satisfied. "Now, where is my lady? Is she with Lady Meridwyn?" The Sheriff inquired.

"No. She left her side quite some time ago." Guy replied.

"She is not there?" The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Then where would she be?" It is very late!"

"I do not know. She said she was returning here. It must've been at least an hour ago when she took leave of my lady." Guy said.

"I must find her." The Sheriff said as he set his goblet back upon the table.

"Indeed." Guy agreed. "I will begin investigations on the morrow. What did you say the woman's name was again?"

"Hestia." The Sheriff said. "Her name is Lady Hestia. In appearance, she is identical to her late twin. But do not be fooled. Her nature is completely the opposite." The Sheriff warned.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After Guy left, the Sheriff went on his search for his Lady. He walked the length of the long corridors through the north wing of the castle, down the steps leading onto the main floor, then eventually through the doors that lead outside to the courtyard. The gardens were up ahead. It was lightly raining. A mist was beginning to form. He ventured anyway. He had a strong suspicion he might find his Lady there. She always seemed drawn to that place. The place where they first met. Where he first kissed her.

He searched the courtyard and decided to venture further. Further out into the gardens there were hedges clothing the landscape in a maze. He wished he had brought a torch with him for light. It was difficult to see in the dark mist that seemed to envelop him. He continued on a direct path for another half mile. Finally he spotted a figure near vases of heather and peonies. It was Lady Rhiannon. Her back was to him. He drew closer.

"My Lady…" he called to her.

She turned around. She was holding a white rose. "My Lord." She said. She tried to smile. But he could tell before he was inches away from her face that she had been weeping.

"Rhiannon." He said. "What troubles you, my angel?"

She looked up into his eyes. "I can't help feeling I am the cause for Meridwyn's illness. I have caused great concern for Sir Guy. I can tell he loves her so. And now his days are filled with worry. Because of me."

"Oh, my angel." He said as he embraced her. "It is not your fault alone. Lady Meridwyn has a mind of her own. She is strong, my love. She is going to be recovered before you know it." He reassured.

"Do you really believe that? Or are you only saying that to appease me?" She pleaded.

"I truly believe it, my Lady." For the Sheriff was confident. Not only had Lady Meridwyn awakened, but she was in good hands. And now, Mortianna would assist in speeding her recovery.

She eased a little, glad that he came for her. She began to relax in his embrace.

"Come, my Lady." He said. Her gown was damp. He took off his cloak and placed it about her shoulders.

"Afraid of a little rain, Sheriff?" she said as she broke free and looked up at him with her sultry green eyes.

"Alas, you remembered." He smiled. "I have not forgotten when you said those words to me the first afternoon we met, last September." His hazel eyes burned like torches as he bore them into hers.

"I was hoping you had not forgotten." She said smiling.

"I have held onto every sweet memory you have given to me." The Sheriff said as he caressed her cheek with his hand. He lifted her chin up toward him. He kissed her then. Slowly. Sensuously. Filling her senses with bliss, and her heart with desire. She relished the moment as their tongues touched. She became breathless. And as they kissed in the rain falling upon them in the fragrant gardens, their worries washed away.

And then, she remembered. Vague flashes. Being hit on the head with a cold hard object. She guessed a rock. The blackness. Shadows of memories slowly crept over her. The small dark cell she first occupied alone while held in captivity. The fear she once held of never seeing her lover again.

The Sheriff knew something was amiss. He felt her stiffen. She held onto him fast.

"My Lady." He said. "Let's go inside."

"Yes. Take me away from here. This is near to the spot where I was captured."

"I know." He said.

She started to breathe rapidly, and to shiver. "You'll never know." She mumbled as they walked toward the castle. He heard her, notwithstanding. He stopped and grasped her shoulders. "Know what, Rhiannon?" He asked softly, as his eyes searched hers.

"I thought I'd never see you again, ever. That thought frightened me." She looked down for a moment, then back up to meet his gaze. "It wasn't death that frightened me. It was the fear of never seeing you again." Tears began to form in her eyes. They pooled and spilled onto her cheeks mixing with the raindrops, they formed beads on her soft dewy skin.

He put his hands on her face and used his thumbs to gently wipe her tears away. The rain was picking up but the Sheriff ignored it. Rhiannon was unmoving and oblivious to it. Alas, she was beginning to remember, he did not wish to interrupt her train of thought.

"I remember I was worried about something, but not pertaining to me. There was incredible pain." She whispered.

Come on, Rhiannon, he willed. Remember our child!

"And heat rushed through me." She continued. "I believed I was dying. I knew it was futile but I whispered your name. Praying for you to come quick. I was afraid to close my eyes, yet I soon could not control it. Next there was blackness. And then…" her words trailed off.

"And then what, my angel." He gently prodded.

"And then." She said slowly. "You found me." She began to weep.

He held her close to him. "My lady, I would've went to the ends of the earth to find you. I still would."

"Oh, my Lord." She cried out. "You were heaven sent."

"I don't know about that." He chuckled.

"Yes." She said as she broke free to look up at him. "I never would've believed you would find me. In that horrible, loathed place. But you did. And just in time." She whispered.

The Sheriff closed his eyes for a moment and slowly shook his head, trying to shut out the memory of his first glance upon Lady Rhiannon that day. When he thought he was too late. He could still see her lying on the small bed, as white as the sheet that barely covered her. No colour to her cheeks or lips. The blood pooled under her. Her damp hair clinging to her face and shoulders. He had been near to death before, many times. But that was the first time his reaction to it gave him a sinking feeling. A momentary feeling that his heart had just been ripped from his chest. Until Guy confirmed that she was indeed alive. He never wanted to have that feeling again.

"What is it, my love?" she asked. She sensed he was troubled by something.

"Nothing." He said as he looked down at his hands.

"Tell me." She pleaded.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "I was just remembering how incredibly relieved I was when I realized you were alive. For I knew at dawn after our first night together - how much I loved you."

"My Lord." She smiled.

"Stay with me, my Lady. I will always make certain you are protected." He said.

"I'm not leaving." She replied.

"My Lady…." He whispered. He bent down to kiss her soft, full lips. He parted her lips with his tongue and found hers. The rain washed down on them, but each were oblivious, too caught up in the moment to care. Afterward he embraced her. He heard the sounds of a horse galloping in the distance. His eyes found its source. It appeared to be one of his guards riding into the night fifty yards to the east of where they stood. The guard would be retiring for the night at his home nearby. It was their turn to do the same.

"Come, my angel." The Sheriff said to Lady Rhiannon. "We must get you out of those wet clothes and get you warm." He took her by the hand and they walked swiftly back in the direction they started on before, back towards the castle.

"As long as you stay with me tonight, I will be warm indeed." She remarked.

He smiled. Tonight he would stay with her. He didn't mind the interruption in his earlier plan. He needed her.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once they were inside of the den just outside the master's private chambers, Lady Rhiannon excused herself to change out of her clothes. Once again the Sheriff made his way towards the table by the fire to pour another libation of the tincture of rapture whilst he waited for her. As he sipped it, he was warmed even more than he already was. And he wondered why he felt the compulsion to partake so much of it during this particular day?

He was getting a strange feeling in his gut about things, but he didn't know why. A sense that something was about to go very awry. He was unable to identify which of the numerous matters he had to concern himself with, would be the cause. He needed to be vigilant, that was about all he knew with certainty.

He heard the sound of the double doors leading into the private chamber opening. Rhiannon stood there, a vision to him. She was wrapped in her velvet dressing gown. It was burgundy in colour and fastened with a satin sash in the same hue. Her skin glowed as the light danced upon her dampened skin, still touched by the evening rain. He fixed his eyes upon her while silencing a gasp. He moved towards her. Slowly… deliberately. Never taking his eyes off of hers. She smiled. She sensed his desire for her and was pleased.

"My Lady, you are beautiful. I've never beheld such beauty in my life until I first cast my eyes upon you. And tonight, you are radiant." He paused and cleared his throat. "You shine like the sun, my Lady." He narrowed his eyes. They were burning with desire. He raised his left brow. She began to melt. She turned her head and cast him a sideways glance, then looked downcast. He loved it when she did that. His body temperature seemed to increase in his response to her.

She stood frozen a moment and then said "I am not weak."

He was surprised. It seemed an odd thing to say in a moment such as this. "Why do you say that, my Lady?" He asked.

"I never shed tears, except alone. Usually in the dark. I never want you to feel that I must depend on you to get by in this life. I don't need anyone." She whispered. She felt relieved to finally be able to look him the eye and reveal the truth about herself.

He gave a half hearted smile. For he really was inclined to frown. He could offer her more than any man in the country, besides the King of England. More protection than any other maiden could wish for. A more than comfortable life, beyond any of her dreams. Yet she was telling him she did not need it? Did not need him? He didn't speak. He just narrowed his gaze and demanded an explanation in a piercing glance as he suddenly put his hands upon her shoulders. At this point, he could no longer hide the frown he'd been so desperately attempting to conceal. He was suddenly reminded of Lady Marian. The way she always regarded him with disgust. He didn't like this. Not at all. For if that was the way Lady Rhiannon felt about him, he may as well bail – now!

"I am ashamed you saw me weep, my Lord." She began. "You have enough responsibility as it is. I never want to be a burden to you. That is why I strive to be so self sufficient." She looked down a moment to catch her breath, she was beginning to speak too quickly. "That is all I meant by not needing you. I don't like need. Need is a very lonely feeling." She knew she was convincing, because his face was softening toward her. But in fact she was stepping back in her tracks and sugar coating her words in response to him. For she knew he was angered. She loved him too much to endure his anger toward her. She never wished to disappoint him.

"My Lady." He smiled again. "If I didn't care to assume responsibility toward you, I never would've asked you to be my wife. It is in fact a duty I will assume by choice. You must understand…" the Sheriff said slowly in a whisper. "I've never felt such a compelling need to protect someone… until I met you."

She searched his eyes with hers because she was warmed in that instant. She suddenly regretted telling him. She had almost succeeded in offending him.

"There was a time I needed you desperately." She decided to share. She knew that he would be pleased to know that.

"Yes. I'm sure I know what you're referring to." He said.

"I know that I fought it. I tried to survive. Before you found me." She said. She suddenly felt a strange sharp pain in the depths of her abdomen. She instinctively held it with her hand, grimacing and controlling the urge to cry out. Then, it was gone as suddenly as it appeared.

"My Lady?" the Sheriff asked, bewildered.

"It's alright. It's just this strange pain that comes and goes occasionally - whenever I begin to remember that awful time." She remarked.

He suddenly realized what it was she was remembering. The pain of childbirth. That had to be it!

"Why do you think that is – that you sometimes feel this?" The Sheriff asked her. He was hoping she would piece it together.

"I'm not sure. I can remember feeling pain, but I couldn't always remember it." She shut her eyes, trying to block it from her mind.

"Do you remember how long it lasted?" He asked.

"No. Just that it was very intense. All consuming. And then…" She looked off in the distance, lost in thought. Why did he keep insisting on these questions?

"And then what, my angel?"

"Then there was relief." She relented. "As suddenly as it started. But that was before I felt a strange rush of heat and everything was blurred and distant. Then there was blackness." She stated, unfazed by her words.

He shuddered. And so that was what the shadow of death looming over you felt like? To hear his lady speak of it, saying she once kissed death, gave him that horrible sinking feeling again. Something wasn't right, he could feel it. Yet, he was strangely aroused by the same token.

"My Lady, you've had enough bad memories assault you for one night. You are trembling. Let me warm you. A goblet of my special brandy, perhaps? The Sheriff suggested.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, my Lord. I think it would help." She accepted.

She took the goblet from him and began to sip it. It warmed her and helped to relax her. She was grateful for the break in the previous topic of discussion. She looked up at him and licked her lips mindlessly. Unaware that he followed every movement of her tongue.

"Perhaps part of what I said was a lie… to myself." She smiled. She was truly fearless. So matter of fact describing herself. How she accepted her own death. He was strangely fascinated by that, and this latest admission. His curiosity piqued.

"Really?" he replied. "Which part was that?" his eyes were drawn to her cleavage. Her dressing gown was slowly coming away. More and more her soft, perfect breasts came into focus. He tried to concentrate on maintaining eye contact, but his peripheral vision noticed it, notwithstanding.

"There are times when I do need you." She said. "Like now for instance."

He licked his lips as he eyed her up and down. He took her goblet of brandy from her and quickly placed both of them back on the table. Then he picked her up and carried her through the doors leading into the private chamber. She threw her arms around his neck and began to kiss him, even before he placed her upon the bed.

She lay on the bed, nestled against the shimmering silk linens. The softest of sheets spread out on the softest cloud of a bed she had ever rested upon, and was in her own piece of heaven. And it was a good feeling. Her dampened skin glowed. An aura of light danced around her, it seemed to kiss her skin. Like a soul burning on fire. He was aroused in that moment of clarity. He went back to close and lock the door.

The Sheriff slowly removed his coat, then he unlaced his tunic until the smooth skin of his chest was visible. She let out a gasp. He climbed on the bed beside her and began to kiss her, slowly untying the satin sash that held the edges of her velvet dressing gown closed. He pried the soft velvet fabric open. Then he lightly traced her curves, starting at mid calf, and working his way up. Slowly, deliberately, until he trailed upwards over her breasts, her throat, her jaw, and then found her soft, full lips as he tasted her with his own.

"My love…" she breathed. "I missed you when you were gone. I was dying for your touch." She was beginning to feel breathless. She felt a heat settle. She wanted him. Her dressing gown began to fall from her shoulders.

"My Lady." The Sheriff whispered as he kissed her. "I desire you…" his words trailed off in a distant place somewhere enveloped in rapture. He thought he might die. He needed her now.

She knew. She reached down and touched him, slowly, softly, then gradually increasing the pressure expertly. He responded to her touch and let out a gasp.

"You are going to get what you want, Lady." He growled huskily as he continued to taste her with his tongue. She was on fire for him. She let her dressing gown slide off of her as she lay naked upon it and pulled him down toward her. He smiled seductively as he looked down upon her, before settling onto her body.

"You're the most irresistible creature I've ever known." He whispered to her. "I'm drawn to you like a magnet. I cannot break free from your spell." He whispered with hunger.

"My dear, dark prince." She breathed.

"Lady, you don't realize it, but I need you." He was suddenly pressed next to her, feverishly kissing her in a heated moment of pure unadulterated passion.

He frequently called her 'angel', yet she was no better than he. Indeed not a noble woman. She was anything but an angel, she realized. For when she was with him like this, her reason for wanting him was just as self serving as any man. She opened herself completely to him, body and soul in submission to his will. She unlaced his breeches, they opened and the velvet fabric grazed his skin along with her hand. He raised himself up, then bent down to graze her breasts with his lips, his kisses were soft and wet, and warm. She wanted more of him. He sensed it and let his hands roam over her soft skin. He continued to respond to the touch of her.

"Take me." She whispered in breathless abandon. He obeyed her command.

"My Lady." The Sheriff whispered, breathing energy into her very soul. "I crave you…"

She drew in a sigh. "My love." She moaned as she kissed him, tasting him with her tongue. She opened herself to him and he slid into her. She cried out. They continued to please one another until their energy was completely spent, and there was nothing remaining but their rapid breathing and the heat of their bodies pressed next to each other. They soon succumbed into blissful sleep.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning in the wee hours of dawn the Sheriff was awakened by a knock on the door. He grumbled about the interruption after he caught a quick glance of Rhiannon lying there beside him so peacefully, though oddly pale. He threw on his black silk quilted robe and laced his breeches as he made his way through the doors leading into the den, and opened the outer door. The Scribe stood there to greet him at this insanely early hour.

"A message from Sir Guy, sire." The Scribe announced, handing the Sheriff a small folded parchment.

"Yes." The Sheriff muttered as he took it from him. He dismissed the Scribe and closed the door. Then he unfolded the note:

"Cousin. There was a scroll left to me from your jailer, Hector. He had a family situation, alas, his father is dying. He had to take leave of his duty for a time. Who do you wish to appoint as jailer in his absence? I will wait upon your answer. – Guy."

The Sheriff frowned. This did not sit right. He looked up into the private chamber. His eyes widened. Neither did something else sit right! He rushed to the bedside. Lady Rhiannon was very pale. Her skin was cool and clammy to the touch. She almost looked the way she did when….No!

He called to her. "No Rhiannon!" he shouted. "NO!" She did not respond.

He ran back to the outer door of the den and down the corridor. He soon spotted the Scribe.

"Scribe!" the Sheriff shouted after him.

The Scribe stopped and turned to face the Sheriff.

"Send for Mortianna and Lady Margaret the midwife at once! Go!" he commanded.

The Scribe nodded and scurried quickly in obedience to his master.

The Sheriff ran back to his chambers, through the double doors and to the bedside. He sat upon the bed and held his lady.

"What on earth is happening?" he muttered to no one in particular as he held her to him. He kissed her head. Her soft silky hair grazed his lips. "My Lady." He said. "What has happened to you? My Love!"


	31. Chapter 31

An hour later, Lady Margaret was discussing Rhiannon's condition with the Sheriff.

"The infection has returned." The midwife stated. "It's not uncommon. But I will need to bleed her again."

"Very well. Is she going to be in a lengthy slumber again?"

"It's difficult to predict. She was much more weakened the last time this happened so I suspect she won't be down as long as before. But I will need to begin."

"Yes. Do it. Where is Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"She's with your lady. She'll be tending to her while I gather the necessary supplies."

The Sheriff nodded while Lady Margaret took her leave. He was still in shock over how quickly her illness came upon her. It worried him. He ventured through the doors leading into the private chambers and leaned against the door frame with his arms folded as he looked to his lady. A great look of concern was spreading across his face.

Mortianna caught sight of him standing there. He nodded for her to take leave and she obeyed. He slowly walked toward the bed and sat beside Lady Rhiannon. He bent down closer to her face.

"You must not leave me." He whispered. He gazed upon her and his mind began to wander. In a world full of chaos, she was his anchor. He knew he didn't deserve to have his wish granted but he clung to it anyway.

His own mother died when he was a year old. He didn't want his child to grow up without a mother. The Sheriff suddenly realized that he was beginning to think himself in terms of a father rather easily, and was momentarily stunned by the admission. He didn't know how to be a father. There was nobody to look to for guidance. He hoped he would figure it out.

He could offer her anything her heart desired. But when she was ill like this, he was powerless. It seemed he and Guy were cursed. Both powerless to stop their ladies from meeting danger. Were they paying for their old ways? It was too late to stop now. Suddenly he realized if the infant were nearby it may serve to bring her out of her slumber. As much as he feared her reaction to discovering he knew about it, he realized his greatest fear was losing her.

"Cousin?" The sound of Guy's voice interrupted his thoughts. The Sheriff turned toward the doorway. Guy was standing there. He arose and went to the door to greet him.

"Did you get my message regarding the need of a new jailer?"

"Yes. I've been rather preoccupied since, however." The Sheriff replied. Just then Lady Margaret appeared carrying her sac of implements accompanied by Mortianna. Mortianna held a large basin in her arms which had a section cut out of it to accommodate one's arm during the bleeding procedure.

"Excuse us." Lady Margaret commented as they brushed past Guy.

"What is going on?" Guy asked.

"I'll tell you what's going on." The Sheriff began as he put his hand on Guy's back and lead him to a corner in the den outside of the chambers where they wouldn't be heard. Guy peered over toward the private chambers and saw the witch and the midwife busily tending to Lady Rhiannon.

"What's going on," the Sheriff continued "Is that we are cursed!" the Sheriff spat.

"Pardon?" Guy asked, bewildered.

"Oh come on, Guy. Wake up!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "Do you not find it curious that the most bizarre events keep happening that are continually putting our ladies in danger?"

"I'm not sure I'm following." Guy said.

"All our lives we never cared for anyone but ourselves. Now that we do, look what's happening!"

"What exactly is happening?" Guy asked tentatively.

"Your lady is unwell. Still very weakened. And mind…well, I'm right back to where we started weeks ago. The infection returned. Alas, she has fallen into that insufferable slumber again. Curses!" The Sheriff cried out.

"You can't honestly believe we're cursed, cousin." Guy said. "You don't know what you're saying right now!"

"I know exactly what I'm saying!" the Sheriff growled. "It's her. I know it must be that rotten impertinent little wench!" The Sheriff snarled.

"Who?"

"Hestia. The sister who ought to be dead!" The Sheriff hissed.

"That's preposterous!" Guy exclaimed.

"No. Indeed it is a fact." The Sheriff countered.

Guy stared at him. He knew what the Sheriff was getting at.

"Are you reading me?" the Sheriff asked.

"Like a book." Guy replied.

"Good." The Sheriff said. "Our jailer is not the priority. The prisoner is secured in the dungeon. The matters of the dungeon can wait. As soon as you can do it, start shadowing her."

"It will be done." Guy said.

They heard footsteps and looked toward the private chambers. Mortianna was coming toward the doors between the two chambers. In the distance, Lady Margaret appeared to be commencing the procedure. Mortianna grasped the two doors and was beginning to close them when the Sheriff spoke.

"No." he called to Mortianna and began to walk in her direction. "I will not have my lady shut out of my sight!"

"She should have quiet." Mortianna advised.

"I want to know what is going on with her at all times. You will leave the doors open." He commanded.

"As you wish, my Lord." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff nodded as Mortianna turned and went back to assist Lady Margaret. He stood there a moment and looked upon his lady. He wished to go back in time. To yesterday, when she seemed perfectly fine. He never would've believed this would happen to her again. Without warning. After last night, he never would've guessed. She was full of energy then. Last night, she gave to him her body and soul, and now she was lying there helpless. He shook his head. That cursed woman, Hestia! She said she'd be in touch. Hecate must have shown her some things.

"Cousin?" Guy said. He was suddenly behind him. The Sheriff turned around.

"What happened?" Guy nodded toward Lady Rhiannon. The Sheriff could sense he was genuinely concerned. The Sheriff could tell Guy anything.

"Come, let's have a drink." The Sheriff said. He moved toward the silver decanter containing his favourite brandy.

"A little early yet, isn't it cousin?" Guy asked as the Sheriff poured out two portions.

"No. These days it's never to early." The Sheriff took a sip from his goblet. "It's all very bizarre, Guy. Last night my lady seemed in perfect health, she was the lady of my dreams." He looked down at his brandy, gazing into the dark amber depths, remembering the taste of her. Her seductive look. And the clever thing she did with her tongue recently. He smiled. He took a large gulp of the tincture of rapture for courage before he spoke again, then he added

"Tell me, Guy. Has she ever done anything to you with her tongue that completely surprised you?"

"What?" Guy asked in confusion. He was beginning to think his better course of action would be to remain at the castle today and watch over the Sheriff. The man was not right. Indeed – he was beside himself!

"Work with me, Guy. Must I spell it out for you? Here, have some brandy." He handed the goblet to Guy, realizing he was remiss in doing so before. Guy maintained his bewildered expression and drew a sip of the brandy.

"When you and Lady Meridwyn are…intimate, has she ever startled you by using her tongue in rather clever ways?" The Sheriff asked with a sly grin.

Guy chuckled. "Well, no. But I think I know what you're getting at." He paused then added with a smile. "How fortunate for you."

"Yes, indeed." The Sheriff smiled. He took another sip from the goblet. "She is more than I ever dreamed of. Yet, she is in the throngs of a curse. Everything, Guy, I'm sure of it – it is all part of some twisted curse. Against me! I wouldn't be surprised to learn that loathed woman, Hestia knows our prisoner somehow!" The Sheriff growled.

"A lof of these matters could just be coincidence, George." Guy pointed out.

"No. This is far more than coincidence. There are too many elements to it that leave a bad taste in my mouth. Even this business with my jailer, Hector." He said in disgust.

"His father is dying, my Lord. Of course he had to take leave. That could not be helped – it was a matter beyond anyone's control." Guy said, attempting to reason with the Sheriff.

"There's something about even that, that does not sit right with me." The Sheriff began. "I don't know why, I just know that I have a bad feeling about it. Gut instinct, Guy. Mine is always right. You should get one."

"Indeed." Guy replied. His eyes downcast.

"It has served me well in many matters. And if you're going to be a husband to the lady of your dreams, that it is the most useful tool to possess." The Sheriff said.

"And if you're going to be a father." Guy added.

"Indeed."

"Shall I check on things in the dungeon before I venture out?" Guy asked.

"No. I'll deal with that later. I'm going to remain here for awhile. They are bleeding her at the moment. I want to make sure she suffers no ill effects from it. She was so weakened this morning. In fact, she was unresponsive."

"Of course." Guy said. "So, this thing came on rather suddenly with Lady Rhiannon?"

"When I fell asleep her glorious body was pressed next to mine. Everything was perfect. She had just given herself to me. She was radiant. When I awakened, she was pale as a whisper, and limp. Just as you saw her weeks ago when we found her in that abandoned castle." The Sheriff drew in a heavy sigh. "I thought that was all behind us."

"It will be." Guy reassured.

"If I have anything to say about it, you're right about that." The Sheriff said. They heard footsteps approaching from the door leading into the den from the corridor outside. Meridwyn stood there, rather pale, yet looking lovely in a pale orange gown.

"My love!" Guy exclaimed as he walked toward her. "You should be resting." He admonished.

"I'm tired of resting." Meridwyn said.

"What are you doing here?" Guy asked her.

"Mortianna brought me a breakfast tray. Lady Margaret came to fetch her for assistance. I couldn't help but overhear." She looked at the Sheriff and went toward him.

"Lady Rhiannon…what is going on? What can I do to help?" She asked.

"She has fallen ill again, like before." He said. "They're tending to her right now." He gestured toward the private chambers.

"Is she awake?" Meridwyn asked.

"No." The Sheriff shook his head and looked downcast.

"How has this happened?"

"Long story." The Sheriff replied. He looked to Guy. Guy smiled and nodded.

"May I see her for a few moments?"

The Sheriff nodded. Meridwyn smiled and looked over at Guy.

"Rest as much as you can today, my love." Guy said. "I must take care of something in the village. I will return later." He kissed her cheek. Meridwyn smiled then went into the private chambers.

"Don't worry, cousin. I will personally accompany Lady Meridwyn back to your quarters." The Sheriff said. He cleared his throat. "I will see her to the door."

"Thank you, cousin."

"When you return, I want a full report." The Sheriff instructed.

"Indeed." Guy said before he turned to leave.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

The woman brushed her strawberry blond tendrils out of her face as she tended to the herbs in her garden on the north side of her manor. She smiled. She knew there was a good chance her sister was dead. It was years since her disappearance. She looked up. The sky was clouded over but occasionally the sun would peer out from behind the veils of white, so intense it almost blinded her. She cultivated some of her precious harvest. Herbs she used not only in culinary dishes but for potions as well. Like her sister, Hestia dabbled in witchcraft. She had to practice in secret. She was careful to keep that part of herself hidden. For if anyone knew, she would burn for it.

She knew she was taking a chance venturing to Nottingham Castle. The Sheriff moved in the same circles as Bishop Hereford. Bishop Hereford was Hestia's greatest fear. For if the Bishop found out that Hestia practiced witchcraft, he would be the one who would have the power to order her burned at the stake. But she couldn't help herself. She had been waiting too long already. And she left it too late. For now, it seemed the Sheriff had a lady he loved. She should've made her move long before this. But she found a way to get to him. He would come around. She was forced to make it difficult for him in order to get his attention, but she was confident that in time he would react to her more kindly than in their initial meeting. Hestia smiled. The Sheriff had been invading her thoughts for a long time. Even before Hecate's disappearance. And once she worked out the problems with the particular variety of potion she was trying to perfect, when she mastered that – he'd be right where she wanted him to be. Eating out of her hand.

The sunlight peeked out again and glinted on her long silver chain. She forgot it was not tucked into her gown. A pentagram medallion dangled upon it. She tucked it into her bodice. Unaware that the Sheriff's Lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisborne, was positioned amidst the trees on his horse nearby, watching her.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I don't understand it." Meridwyn said as she walked with the Sheriff. She held onto his arm to steady her. "She seemed fine. She was content. She was speaking of your wedding."

"She was?" the Sheriff asked. He smiled.

"Yes. She asked me to stand up with her. As her witness."

"Yes, she did mention that." The Sheriff said.

"How did this happen?" Meridwyn cried.

"I don't know. But I will see to it she has the best care."

"Of course." Meridwyn said quietly as they continued to walk. They remained silent the rest of the way until they stopped at the door to Guy's chambers. Meridwyn looked up at the Sheriff.

"She really cares for you."

The Sheriff smiled. Meridwyn continued. "I never pictured you with a lady. For any quantity of time greater than a fortnight, I mean. But now, I cannot picture you and Lady Rhiannon apart from one another."

"It's funny you say that. That is exactly how I feel about it." The Sheriff said.

"She is strong. And she is in love. So, she shall fight." Meridwyn said.

"I hope you're right." The Sheriff replied.

"Trust me. Rhiannon wouldn't want to miss anything. She will be up before you know it." Meridwyn reassured.

The Sheriff smiled as she nodded at him, before she let herself into the chambers.

___________________________________________________________________________

Later that day the Sheriff was entering the dungeon. He approached the same guard he spoke to the day before about keeping watch over Hector.

"How are things with our prisoner?" the Sheriff asked him.

"Quite well. He is quiet and cooperative today." The young guard replied.

"How peculiar." The Sheriff remarked.

"Not really, my Lord. The prisoners weaken over time. We find that after a few days of being held here, that they easily bend to our will."

"Is that so?" the Sheriff challenged.

"Yes, my Lord. They are often quiet at this point in time."

"I find it hard to believe that man would be at a loss for words."

"See for yourself." The guard replied.

The Sheriff nodded for the guard to accompany him and they went to the door leading into the prisoner's cell. The guard unlocked it and they entered in. The prisoner was still suspended in chains. This time he was wearing his hood. His head was bent down as if he didn't hear them come in.

"What's this, Knight?" the Sheriff growled as he advanced closer. "You're not going to acknowledge me?"

The prisoner looked up. His blue eyes peered through the small cutouts of the hood at the Sheriff. He mumbled an inarticulate phrase.

"What's that?" the Sheriff taunted. "Did someone get a hold of my tongue snippers and not tell me?"

The prisoner only moaned an attempted reply.

"You're awfully quiet, Knight." The Sheriff hissed, his left eyebrow raised suspiciously. "What? No clever remarks? No boorish riddles? Well, let me tell you something!" He snarled as he inched closer to the prisoner. "You are more tiresome to me now! But…" He grabbed the prisoner's collar. "Don't think just because you're quiet and cooperative that I'm going to make it easy on you. I'm already onto this new game of yours."

The prisoner nodded. The Sheriff looked at him curiously.

"So you have nothing to say to me?" The Sheriff asked again.

The prisoner shook his head in reply. The Sheriff let go of him in disgust. "That's fine, guard." The Sheriff said as he looked to the guard beside him. "I'm finished here."

The prisoner mumbled an inaudible response. The Sheriff turned toward him.

"Whatever! I'll deal with you later. Perhaps you'll be able to speak in articulate phrases next time!" The Sheriff huffed.

The prisoner sighed as the Sheriff left. He'd escaped…this time. He didn't know whether it was better to talk or to mumble. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. The Sheriff was satisfied to end this meeting, but he knew the day coming. He knew he would die at the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. The only question remaining was when?

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

When the Sheriff approached his private chambers, he found Guy standing there outside of the door waiting for him.

"She's a witch." Guy announced.

"You mean Lady Hestia?" The Sheriff asked.

"Indeed."

"Come." The Sheriff said, as he lead Guy into his other quarters across the hall from the private chambers. It would be more private in there. Once they were inside, Guy continued.

"I found her outside of her manor today. She looked to be gardening."

"Oh, I'm sure. I'm sure she grows her own ingredients for her poisonous mixtures." The Sheriff remarked sarcastically.

"I waited for a time, then peered through the windows once she was inside. I saw her remove a chain from around her neck. Then she unbuttoned her gown and walked toward another room. I snuck inside." Guy said.

"A risky move." The Sheriff commented.

"Yes. I could hear water splashing. I believed she was bathing. So I took a quick look around. There was an altar there, candles, jars of several varieties of powders, a small double edged dagger, and this." He dangled a silver chain from his hand that gleamed in the light. A large silver pentagram hung on the end of it.

"A pentagram." The Sheriff said. "Mark of the witch. Well, well, well. What a surprise."

"This changes everything, cousin." Guy exclaimed. "All we must do now, is tell the Bishop. You must show this to Bishop Hereford!"

"I cannot do that!" The Sheriff said angrily. "Think about it! Everyone in this town has by now figured out that Mortianna, my counsel – is a witch. How can I then support the Bishop, which I must do, to sentence another witch to burn at the stake?"

"Mortianna is protected." Guy said. "She works for you."

"No." The Sheriff shook his head. "The people will protest. I don't want another repeat of the village square in ninety four when the townspeople went completely mad and formed a revolt." He sighed. "Useful information, Guy. There's no doubt about that. But her fate lies in our hands. It will be done quickly and privately. Nobody shall know but us."

"Indeed." Guy relented.

"Keep watching her." The Sheriff instructed. "And while you do that, I'll bide my time with other things until the time comes to end her miserable existence."


	32. Chapter 32

Several days passed since the day that Lady Rhiannon fell ill. In a rare moment of leisure, the Sheriff walked alone in his gardens. He needed to think. There had been no change. Lady Rhiannon was still lost in her slumber. The fever had passed, he was relieved about that. But still, no signs of her wakening anytime soon.

And that was the reason why he hadn't accomplished much in the days that passed. His place was with his lady. He didn't feel very comfortable about leaving her. He thought about yesterday's meeting with Guy.

"_It appears she lives a comfortable life. She lives alone. Occasionally she ventures to the market in the village square. Mostly she stays at home, however. She'll be an easy target." Guy said to the Sheriff. They were inside of the Council Quarters discussing the matter of Hestia._

"_Does she have visitors come to call on her?" The Sheriff asked._

"_None that I have seen. The only time I haven't been keeping watch is overnight."_

"_Good. That lessens the chances of our being seen."_

"_You know, cousin…we could've finished this by now. I could've had her long before this." Guy remarked._

"_I've been rather…involved in other matters." The Sheriff said._

"_It's been nine days, cousin." Guy pointed out._

"_I know."_

"_The next full moon is in five days hence."_

"_Yes. I did say I wanted her dead by the next full moon, didn't I?" The Sheriff mused._

"_You did, sire."_

"_Then it shall be done. Perhaps when it is over my lady will recover. Yes. What was I thinking? If it's a curse, it will die with her!" The Sheriff exclaimed in a wide eyed moment of clarity._

"_When?" Guy asked._

"_As soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow night. Let me see how my lady fares. I'm rather worried about her. It's been too long." The Sheriff said quietly._

"_She will waken, cousin. She must! She is young, and strong."_

"_Obviously not strong enough." The Sheriff remarked. He cleared his throat. "Is there anything else?"_

"_The matter of the prisoner." Guy stated._

"_What about him?" the Sheriff asked._

"_He hasn't spoken in days. I found that out when I stopped by the dungeon to check on things before reporting to you now."_

"_Still? He still hasn't spoken? He was acting rather peculiar the last time I saw him." The Sheriff remarked._

"_When was that?" Guy asked._

"_Nine days ago." The Sheriff looked away._

"_What?" Guy asked, incredulous. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've went there every day to look in on things, either on my way out, or on my way back into the castle!"_

"_I received a daily report from one of the guards." The Sheriff said._

"_Obviously they were incomplete." Guy commented._

"_Indeed." The Sheriff said. "He did fail to mention the point about the mute prisoner – our little leperous friend." The Sheriff spat. "Curses!"_

"_And what of the matter of your jailer?" Guy asked._

"_Haven't heard from Hector. I will be appointing someone. But it won't be the guard who sent me the daily reports."_

Yes things were much different than the Sheriff imagined they would be by now. By now, he was supposed to be moments away from his wedding. Nothing was happening, or moving at the right speed. He was almost bored of the daily tedium of it. There was lack of excitement. He was feeling guilty about missing that. He had a feeling that something more was coming to him. There would be more excitement indeed. Guy wondered why he was keeping the prisoner alive. The Sheriff hoped to extract more information from him before he disposed of him. But curiously, the prisoner wasn't talking.

The Sheriff had just come from the dungeon before this leisurely stroll through the gardens. He made a decision to appoint as jailer, the same guard he spoke to about Hector, then again at the last meeting with the prisoner ten days ago.

"_What is your name, boy?" The Sheriff asked the young guard._

"_Joseph, sir."_

"_Well, Joseph." The Sheriff said as he put his hand on his shoulder. "I'm in need of a jailer at the moment. My jailer, Hector had an urgent family matter. He had to take leave. What say you?"_

"_Me?" _

"_Yes - you. I'm appointing you jailer of this spectacularly loathed place!" he gestured about the dungeon with his free hand._

"_As you wish, my Lord." Joseph replied. "I accept."_

"_Good. Now, my Lieutenant tells me our leperous friend has become rather….mute?"_

"_Yes. He hasn't spoken."_

"_Take me to him." The Sheriff commanded._

The Sheriff remembered how once they were outside the door to the cell, his taste for excitement was rekindled. He felt an adrenaline rush as he remembered.

"_Hand me the lash." The Sheriff said, his arm outstretched, and palm facing upward._

"_What?" the guard replied._

"_The lash! Give it to me! I'll make him talk!"_

_The guard obeyed and gave the whip to the Sheriff. When the guard had finished unlocking the door, the Sheriff pushed him aside. He pushed on the door so it banged loudly against the wall announcing his entrance into the cell. The prisoner looked up._

"_Oh, how good of you, Knight!" the Sheriff said as he moved toward him. "To acknowledge me… for once."_

_The prisoner nodded. The Sheriff inched his face in close to the prisoner and bore into his blue eyes that peered out of the hood._

"_Why aren't you speaking? What manner of game is this?" The Sheriff punctuated it by flicking his wrist. The whip lashed out and created a whooshing sound to emphasize his words. The prisoner cringed. _

"_How is it that you're not speaking? I don't remember ordering the removal of your tongue!" the Sheriff barked._

_Once again the prisoner muttered an inaudible, inarticulate phrase._

_The Sheriff stood back, and swung the lash swiftly. It landed across the prisoner's trunk. The prisoner moaned. The Sheriff threw the lash to the ground, and grabbed him by his shirt._

"_Don't think I'm finished with you, you cursed little leper! I will be back. You can count on that. And you, my leperous friend… are going to talk!" The Sheriff hissed._

Something was very peculiar about the way the prisoner was behaving. The Sheriff couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was very different from before. Almost fearful of him. One thing he could say about him in the past, was that the 'Fallen Knight' had never appeared to be frightened in the presence of the Sheriff. Even when he was being interrogated in the dungeon.

But the Sheriff's mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of Lady Rhiannon and her present state of health. He was worried about her. And time was running out. It had been a fortnight since his return to Nottingham. Still no word from his lead investigator, Duke Farnsworth. He knew it would be coming, however. The Duke never disappointed him. He hoped he would hear something soon. He needed to make plans. The Sheriff walked back toward the castle. He would check on Lady Rhiannon again.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two of the Sheriff's guards were stationed outside of the castle gates. The young men had been stationed there since dawn and were eager for their relief to show up for an afternoon respite.

"How come we always get assigned to this duty when there's nobody of significance scheduled to call on the Sheriff?" The first one said.

"I've noticed that. But not much we can do about it." The second guard said, then added: "You whine like a mule."

The first guard ignored his comment and said: "When's lunch?"

"You just illustrated my point. It is not high noon yet. Look at the sky. Then you wouldn't need to ask me when the next break time comes." The second guard huffed, exasperated.

"You're awfully short today!" the first guard commented.

"I'm just as bored as you are!"

They heard the sounds of horse's hooves approaching. They looked ahead. A young man on horseback was coming toward them.

"He's not a dignitary." The first guard sighed.

"Oh, shut your cake hole!" the second one whispered in annoyance.

The young man dismounted. He pulled the horse by the reins and walked toward them.

"Good day, gentlemen. I have a very important message to deliver to the Sheriff of Nottingham." He held the sealed scroll in front of him to show to the guards.

"Really?" The second guard said. "Who sent you then?"

"Right." The young man began. He put his finger to his cheek. "It was a Duke…hmm? Farm? Farbirth? Farmgirth? No…that's not it." The young man scratched his head.

"You mean Duke Farnsworth?" the first guard offered.

"Yes! Indeed. That's it!" The young man smiled.

The second guard rolled his eyes. "You want us to let you in past the castle gates, and you can't even remember who sent you? Huh!"

"It's been awhile since I saw the man. A fortnight in fact. I hoped to arrive here sooner but, well… I had a wee problem with my horse."

"Indeed." The second guard remarked, unconvinced.

"He ate something that didn't agree with him." The young man said. The horse showed his teeth and looked to be smiling just then, as if to punctuate the young man's words. The first guard chuckled.

The second guard was undeterred. "Describe him."

"Who?" the messenger asked.

"Duke Farnsworth! The man who sent you!"

"Well…he was tall…broad. He had red hair, and he had a beard." The messenger replied.

The guard was satisfied. He nodded to the first guard.

"Show him into the castle. I'll remain here. Our relief should be here soon. You can return afterward."

The messenger smiled. It was exactly as the Duke told him it would be. Too bad he just didn't remember his magic name right away. But now, he was being shown into the castle, just as Duke Farnsworth said he would be. He looked up at the cream coloured vast, ornate structure of the castle as he was being lead into it. He'd never seen architecture of such magnificence before.

The Sheriff walked the corridors of the castle. He was on the main floor. The stairwell was approaching on the right. He heard footsteps fast approaching behind him.

"My Lord Sheriff!" the Scribe called out to him.

The Sheriff turned to face him. "I'm about to check on my lady. What is it?" the Sheriff replied impatiently.

"A messenger here to see you, sire. He was sent by Duke Farnsworth!" the Scribe said excitedly.

"Where is he?" the Sheriff asked urgently.

"In the Council Quarters."

Moments later the Sheriff entered the Council Quarters. A young man was standing there holding a scroll. There was a guard standing beside him. The Sheriff looked to the guard and nodded. He waved his hand to gesture dismissal and the guard took leave.

"You have a message for me?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward the messenger.

"Yes, I believe so." The young man said. "Are you the Sheriff of Nottingham? I'm not from around here." The messenger explained.

"I am indeed." The Sheriff said.

The messenger handed him the scroll.

"How were they? Duke Farnsworth and my men?" the Sheriff asked him.

"All seemed well to me, my Lord. They were most eager to get this message to you."

"Yes. Were you paid?"

"Yes, my Lord. Duke Farnsworth paid me."

"Very well."

The messenger left, and the Sheriff closed the door behind him. He quickly broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. He began to read.

"_My Lord Sheriff;_

_I have a lead. A blacksmith and his wife are the ones who were given your child. I do believe they are taking good care of your child. But I learned it was them after they fled. We are on the move. We know who they are. Mordrid and I met with them and spoke with them, alas, before we knew they were the ones we were seeking. We shall find them. I trust this note finds you and your lady well. I will be in touch again._

_Sincerely,_

_Duke C. Farnsworth."_

The Sheriff smiled. Not only at the content of the letter, but at the Duke's signature. It never failed. He always forgot Duke Farnsworth's first name, but was reminded every time he received word from him. The man he appointed his lead investigator, who was duke in his county, was Christian Farnsworth. He forgot because for years, he was known by his friends and colleagues as simply - the Duke. The Sheriff was startled suddenly as the door opened. It was Guy.

"I hear there's been word from the Duke." Guy said.

"News travels fast." The Sheriff remarked.

"What news, cousin?"

"He knows who has the child." The Sheriff replied.

"Good news, cousin! The child should be here soon – safe and sound."

"Once he finds them."

"What? I don't understand."

"I said he knows who has the child, cousin. I didn't say he had the child in custody yet."

"Why doesn't he?"

"The couple fled…with my child. Almost like being back to square one." The Sheriff sighed.

"The Duke and your men will find them. He is good." Guy reassured.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. It's just this cursed waiting. Waiting and waiting. It's interminable!" The Sheriff yelled out as he kicked one of the chairs at the large table in the room.

Guy stood silent and looked away.

"I'm going to go mad, Guy, if I don't do something. So, I've thought about it." The Sheriff began.

"About what?"

"I'm going to check on my lady, but tonight – we head into the village. Maybe that will make me feel better." He huffed.

"We're going to do it?" Guy asked.

"We are, cousin. We're going to finish that little wench off. It shall be done….tonight."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Far into the north, a young maiden was visiting the village market. She was buying flour and eggs to make a loaf of bread when she got back home. It was her husband's favourite. She was a newlywed and still very eager to please him.

The day was warm. Overcast, yet still warm. It was busy at the market today. There were crowds forming around the vendors. People banged into her as she reached into her sack to extract coins to pay the merchant. She took the flour and eggs from him when the transaction was complete and walked back through the crowds. As she started up the dirt road she saw a man struggling. He had a walking stick and was attempting to carry a large sack. His gait kept faltering and he dropped the sack to the ground repeatedly.

She held her parcels close to her and walked slowly past him looking away.

"Pardon me, miss?" The man said. She turned to look at him. His face was hidden from her. He wore a hooded cloak of some sort. The hood was up, and it was quite voluminous. Even in the daylight, it still managed to shield his face from her.

"Yes?" the young beautiful woman said as she stopped in her tracks and looked at him.

"I'm having a bit of time here. I wondered if you might assist me with these parcels? My horse is just up ahead."

"I really should be getting home." She said, though she did feel pity for him.

"It shall only take a moment." He said.

"Well, alright. But I must be going after that." The young maiden replied. She walked over toward him and he handed her the sack. It was not as heavy as she perceived it to be. He extended his walking stick and planted it firmly on the ground before he walked with her. He smiled.

When they arrived to the place where his horse was secured, oddly in amongst the trees, she placed the sack down beside the horse.

"Good day." She said before she turned back toward the dirt road. Suddenly she felt his arms reach around from behind her and grab her. She tried but was unable to break free from him.

"It is indeed a good day." A malevolent voice whispered in her ear. "Oh yes, finally. A very good day indeed!" A damp sweet smelling cloth was placed over her mouth and nose. The smell of it sickened her. Then her hands relaxed. The sacks she carried with her fell to the ground. Her body felt warm and very light. Her eyelashes fluttered into blackness until her eyes closed shut.

He smiled. It was time for games again.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was at the bedside sitting with Lady Rhiannon. It was late. He was dressed, ready to leave with Guy. Rhiannon wasn't stirring. The colour was starting to return to her cheeks but she'd still not yet awakened.

"It's all going to end, my angel." The Sheriff whispered as he caressed her cheek with his hand. "It all ends tonight. You shall be restored." He paused to look upon her. He hoped she'd wake soon. His days were so empty without her.

"My angel, you must wake." He said. "There's so much in store for us. And we still have the matter of our wedding." He kissed her cheek. Then he reached to his shoulders to grasp the hood, he pulled up the hood on the white linen cloak he hadn't worn in years. He was wearing it over his black leather coat. He donned his gloves and touched her hair.

"I will return, my lady." He said. Then he made a quick exit and made his way just outside of the stables to meet with Guy.

Guy was waiting, mounted atop his chestnut coloured mare.

"You ready?" the Sheriff asked.

Guy produced Lord Locksley's old sword. The Sheriff gave it to him after he killed Robin of Locksley. He wanted nothing more to do with it.

"I am." Guy replied.

"Let's do it." The Sheriff said.

They kicked their horses into a gallop and fled through the night. Guy lead the way, he knew where the manor was located. They made their way some twenty miles east of Nottingham. There were very few homes in the region. They continued along on a dirt road. The home of Lady Hestia emerged on the right upon a hill. Light shone out through the windows.

They found a spot nearby to secure their horses. It was concealed within the trees, yet close enough for a fast exit.

Guy tried the door. It was unlocked. He pushed it and they quietly entered. They crept in silently down a long corridor that lead into a chamber. A dim light was coming from it. They walked together and stopped at the door. Lady Hestia was inside, her back to them. She stood before her altar. A few candles burned there. The Sheriff saw the curious dagger gleaming by the light of one of them on the altar. He nodded to Guy. Guy approached her from behind and took hold of her. She tried to scream but Guy covered her mouth with his gloved hand.

The Sheriff advanced toward them. Guy turned her around to face the Sheriff. She looked at him, but did not recognize him immediately in his garb. The Sheriff pulled the dark green leather mask from his face.

"Well, what do we have here?" The Sheriff said as he took a brief moment to gaze about the room. "Looks like witchcraft to me." The Sheriff whispered in a hiss. He nodded to Guy to remove his hand from her mouth.

"What do you want?" Hestia asked.

"Oh, you see… it's not what I want from you." The Sheriff clicked his tongue against his palette for a few beats. "No, alas, it is…what I can do for you." He said.

She looked up at him curiously.

"The game is up. We know what you are." The Sheriff announced.

Hestia swallowed.

"Those found to be practicing witchcraft must burn at the stake." The Sheriff began. He inched closer. "That would be a long process. I'd report to the Bishop, then there would be a trial. Alas, there's enough evidence for a guilty verdict, and you would be found guilty. You'd be imprisoned for a time first, taking up space rotting in my dungeon. And then…you would burn." The Sheriff whispered roughly.

Hestia didn't speak. She looked at him as he continued.

"It's a dreadful way to go. I loathe that form of execution. The smell of burning flesh lingering in the air for weeks afterward is repulsive. I don't usually have a say in the manner of execution in these matters, but in this case the Bishop hasn't been told about you." The Sheriff said. "And you know… I would have to report this to him."

"What are you getting at?" she finally spoke.

"I'm here to hasten things for you, and spare myself the smell of burning flesh." He swiftly produced a dagger and plunged it into her chest. She let out a groan and threw her head back. Guy let go of her and she fell to the ground. The Sheriff reached down and pulled the dagger from her.

"Pray you're dead soon." The Sheriff said. "It's going to get rather smoky in here." He snarled.

They left her on the floor. In moments she was dead, but they didn't bother to wait and see.

"Burn it down." The Sheriff instructed Guy. "We shall leave no trace of her."

The Sheriff left the manor and went towards his horse. Guy followed the Sheriff's orders and proceeded to burn the manor. Nobody had seen them. There wasn't another home in the vicinity for miles. The Sheriff was satisfied. There was one problem solved, he thought as he untied the rope that secured the horse to the tree.

Task completed, Guy returned to his horse near to where the Sheriff was. The Sheriff was already seated upon his black mare.

"Let's get out of here." The Sheriff said.

They were silent the rest of the way to the castle. There was nothing left to say. This was their ritual whenever they needed to kill someone. They didn't talk for a few hours afterward. And the matter usually wouldn't come up again for days. In a twisted way, it was as if they were paying respect.

Finally, the Sheriff was entering the den outside the private chambers. Lady Margaret and Mortianna were at the bedside. The Sheriff removed his gloves and the white hooded cloak and cast them aside. Then he proceeded through the doors leading into the private chambers.

Lady Margaret looked up. The Sheriff looked at her curiously.

"It's been days, my Lord." The midwife spoke. "Perhaps it's best to send for your physician." She suggested

"No." The Sheriff said.

Lady Margaret came toward him. "I'm not sure what more can be done."

"Is she worse?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well, no. But she's the same. There is no change. That is what concerns me."

"What are you saying? If she is not worse, what exactly is the problem?"

"The sooner she awakens, the better for her outcome. If she continues like this, then…" her words trailed off and she looked down at her hands.

"Then what?" the Sheriff asked.

"Then – I recommend that you prepare yourself." She said.

The Sheriff's eyes widened. He rushed to the bedside. He looked to Mortianna who was there tending to Lady Rhiannon. "Leave her." He said. "I'll take over now." Mortianna obeyed.

The Sheriff sat beside Lady Rhiannon on the bed. He reached beside him and grabbed the cup of batwing tea from the bedside table. He raised Lady Rhiannon up with his left hand, supporting her shoulders, and held the cup to her lips.

"Come on, Rhiannon. You must drink. Listen to me!" He shouted.

Her eyelashes began to flutter. He moved the cup away from her.

"My lady! Yes. Yes! Open your eyes!" He commanded.

She tried to obey and did manage to open them for a brief second. She looked into his eyes then before she closed them again. The Sheriff put the cup to her lips again and she began to drink. He smiled and kissed the top of her head as he held her to him.

"It will be alright now, my angel. It's almost over." The Sheriff said.

She let her head rest against his chest and exhaled an audible sigh.

"Rhiannon? My lady? What is it?" He held her out before him to look upon her face.

"My…love." She whispered faintly.

"Yes, I'm here." He said. She slumped back to the bed then and fell asleep. Yet, he was filled with new hope. He was beginning to feel relief. At least she spoke. She was only awake a few moments, but it had to be a good sign. He removed his coat and stretched out on the bed beside her. He lay on his side and looked upon her as she slept.

"My beautiful lady." The Sheriff said as he smoothed her hair. "Wake up from your sleep. And when you do…I shall be here."


	33. Chapter 33

In the early morning hours the Sheriff awoke still resting in the same position, facing his lady. He opened his eyes. Lady Rhiannon's eyes were already opened and fixed upon his. He raised himself up on his elbow, startled to see her awake.

"Rhiannon?" He whispered.

She raised her left hand up slowly and began to caress his cheek.

"What day is it?" she mumbled.

"It is Tuesday." He said, smiling, grateful to hear her speak.

"Oh? I slept for four days? That is ludicrous!" Rhiannon exclaimed. She tried to raise herself up from the bed. Finally she managed a sitting position. The Sheriff sat up and placed his arm about her to steady her.

"My love…" the Sheriff began "in fact it was not four days. It was…"

"Oh, why am I feeling so dizzy?" Rhiannon said. Just then she suddenly bent forward, raised her knees up to her chest, and placed her head there and began to rock back and forth.

"My lady?" the Sheriff said, puzzled. "Are you quite yourself?"

"No. But I will be…" Rhiannon mumbled, still bent forward.

The Sheriff arose from the bed and threw on his black silk quilted robe. He was still dressed in his breeches, and a shirt which he casually left unbuttoned. Rhiannon straightened up and looked up at him curiously.

"I must send for Lady Margaret." The Sheriff said.

"Oh, no. Not again." Rhiannon sighed. "I'll be confined forever to this chamber if you do that."

He went to her and put his hand upon her cheek. "Rhiannon, you have been sleeping nearly a fortnight! This is the eleventh day."

"I don't understand?" Rhiannon shook her head. "That cannot be!"

"Whatever made you ill when I found you the first time, came back." The Sheriff said. He already knew what it was that caused her illness, but last time he checked, she was unaware.

"Oh wait…yes. I did hear them at some point." Rhiannon remarked. "Lady Margaret and Mortianna."

The Sheriff was puzzled. He eyed her curiously. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"I just heard voices. Their's, in fact. I heard Mortianna express concern for me. Then I heard Lady Margaret say she was going to speak to you."

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Did Lady Rhiannon hear them speaking when he came in the night before and found the two women at the bedside? But she was unconscious? How did she hear them? He saw her for himself. She was not awake!

"Are you certain?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. Lady Margaret said something about -'the Sheriff needing to prepare himself'." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff tried to conceal his astonishment. He swallowed. "You heard her say that?" he asked again.

"Yes, I did. It made me angry." Rhiannon said. "I wanted to scream but I couldn't. I tried. I couldn't even open my eyes. But, finally, after I tried very hard, I made it happen."

The Sheriff smiled.

"So, what did I miss." Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff chuckled and embraced her. "My lady, it is good to have you back." He said as he kissed the top of her head.

"I'm not being funny." Rhiannon said moments later when she pulled away and looked up into his eyes. "Really, did I miss anything? Because I'm sure I must have. Was I really asleep for that long?"

"Yes you were. And no, you didn't miss anything." The Sheriff smiled.

"I should say I shall not require sleep again for days and days." Rhiannon said. Her head began to ache, and she felt very light. She bent her head forward, placing it in her hands.

"My lady?" The Sheriff asked.

"Why is everything moving?" she exclaimed. She looked at him and tried to focus. "You are moving too!" Rhiannon cried.

"My love, lay back and rest. I'm sending for Lady Margaret. You must be examined." He said.

"No!" Rhiannon exclaimed. He watched her. She was no longer paying attention to him. Instead there was a grimace upon her face. She brought her left hand up to her forehead, then fell back upon the pillows. He ignored her wishes and used the moment to his advantage. He left the chambers, spoke to the guard outside, and requested that Lady Margaret be brought back to the private chambers to examine Lady Rhiannon. When he returned to the bedside she looked up at him.

"You sent for her, didn't you?" Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff nodded.

"I don't want her. I only want you!" she exclaimed.

The Sheriff went to her and sat beside her. "My angel, I am not knowledgeable in these matters. Lady Margaret is skilled. I think she is as good as my physician." The Sheriff said as he smoothed her hair.

"Right." Rhiannon said. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you about that. But at this moment, I feel too unwell to bother with it."

"About what?" The Sheriff asked.

"Oh…I don't know." She began. "Perhaps it is – why you assigned a midwife to be in charge of my care." She closed her eyes and grimaced again.

The Sheriff was startled. He could tell already her faculties were not altered in any way by the length of her slumber.

"My lady, there was a good reason why I hired Lady Margaret to oversee your care. It was…" He was cut off.

"Because I'm the closest thing to a nurse this town has to offer!" Lady Margaret said.

The Sheriff turned around at the sound of her voice. She was at the doorway between the den and the private chambers. Lady Rhiannon rolled her eyes.

Lady Margaret continued toward them, placing her bag of supplies on an empty chair near the bed. She put her hands upon her hips.

"The lady and I have already had this discussion once before." Lady Margaret said to the Sheriff. "She knows why you hired me." She then looked at Rhiannon. "Don't you, Rhiannon?" She challenged.

"Go away!" Rhiannon cried. She pulled the linens up over her head.

Lady Margaret reached around the Sheriff, who was still seated there upon the bed - not having had a moment to get out of the way, and swiftly pulled the blankets back down.

"Last I checked, I haven't been fired. A little cooperation my lady, if you please!" Lady Margaret admonished.

The Sheriff couldn't help but chuckle to himself over the banter between them. He arose from the bed, and headed out of the chamber. At the doorway into the den, he paused and turned around.

"I'll leave you ladies to it then." He said.

"Indeed." Lady Margaret called to him. "Give me a few moments to examine her. Then I will speak to you."

The Sheriff nodded and left them alone while Lady Margaret commenced her assessment.

Thirty minutes later, the Sheriff was receiving her report.

"I think the worst of it is over, my Lord. I'm sure she relapsed because she failed to heed my instructions the first time." Lady Margaret sighed.

"I did not know that." The Sheriff mentioned.

"You were not here, my Lord. Alas, that was the problem. She was restless, irritable, and utterly uncooperative. She wouldn't heed my advice regarding rest." Lady Margaret began. "But, you are here now. So I think she will follow my instructions."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, perplexed.

"She won't listen to me. She won't listen to a lot of people. But, she will listen to you. And I know that you want what's best for her. So if I say she needs rest, you'll make sure she gets it." Lady Margaret sighed. "God knows she wouldn't."

"Yes." The Sheriff said. "So, what are we to do now? Will she recover?"

"Continue with rest, liquids, and nourishment. She will recover but she has been bedridden many days. She will be very weakened when she tries to bear weight or walk. Her muscles have been idle all this time." Lady Margaret stated.

"Indeed. She said she felt dizzy this morning." The Sheriff mused.

"That is normal." Lady Margaret said as she looked into her bag to make certain she hadn't left anything at the bedside.

The Sheriff watched her. He was impressed with her knowledge and thoroughness. He decided to do something he rarely did. Pay a compliment.

"You know, Lady Margaret – I've been observing you for some time. Now I understand why my Officer Curran holds you in high esteem." The Sheriff remarked.

Lady Margaret blushed. "My husband is one in a million, my Lord. In his eyes I have no faults." She replied modestly.

"Regarding your profession, he is right." The Sheriff cleared his throat. "You'd make a good physician."

"I have thought about it, but James and I have children." She said.

"Yes, I know. Who is taking care of them while you've been here?"

"My mother. Our eldest daughter helps out a great deal as well. She is twelve."

"If you want it, it can be done." The Sheriff said.

"Perhaps. But right now, it will have to wait." Lady Margaret said. "We must get your lady well again. For your wedding."

"Yes." He said. "My wedding." He smiled.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon the Sheriff found Guy speaking to Thomas Crumwell in the hall outside of the Council Quarters. He approached them slowly, not wanting to interrupt. They were probably discussing Lady Meridwyn. Guy saw him and nodded for him to proceed.

"Cousin! How does your lady fare?" Guy asked.

"Better." The Sheriff smiled. "She has finally awakened."

The physician looked at the Sheriff. "Your cousin tells me that Lady Margaret has been supervising her care, my Lord. It sounds like she did everything right."

"Indeed, Thomas. Things are finally beginning to look up. And it's funny I should see you here. I wondered if I might have a word with you?" The Sheriff asked.

"Of course, my Lord." Thomas said.

Guy nodded to the Sheriff and indicated the Council Quarters where he would wait. The Sheriff and the physician walked a few feet away and began their discussion. After a time, they heard a commotion. The Sheriff excused himself and proceeded inside the Council Quarters. Guy was there with two guards, a man the Sheriff had never seen, and for some strange reason, the same young man he saw the day before who delivered the message to him from the Duke. There was shouting going on back and forth, but the Sheriff couldn't make sense of it.

"What's going on?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Cousin, this man came to see us about his sister's home being burned to the ground." Guy pointed to the first man. "And this one…" He said as he gestured toward the man the Sheriff recognized, "apparently tried to stop him from coming and disturbing you."

"I did." The man the Sheriff recognized as the messenger, said.

The Sheriff looked at him a moment, then over at the first man. The strange man was older, with reddish blond hair that was balding. He was short and stout.

"What's this about your sister's home?" The Sheriff asked him. He could already tell the homely looking man was related to the evil twins.

"I went to call upon my sister today. Her home was burned to the ground. There is nothing left! I don't even know if she was inside!"

"Did you look around?" The Sheriff asked.

"As much as I could. There was still smoke, and the ashes are very hot."

"And what do you want from me?" The Sheriff asked pointedly, unfazed by the intrusion. Guy took note, for he in fact was quite uncomfortable. He knew exactly what the man was referring to – Hestia's home.

"I just want to know if my sister was inside. And I thought you should know in case there were a band of rebels in this county who were responsible."

"That's not what you said in the courtyard!" The young man who was familiar to the Sheriff exclaimed.

"Keep your bloody nose out of it!" The first man shouted as he bolted for him. The two guards grabbed the men to restrain them.

"Enough!" the Sheriff barked. He had a feeling the messenger was right, however. He looked to the guard who restrained the young man he recognized.

"Take him outside the room." The Sheriff instructed. "I will send for him in a few moments."

The guard obeyed. When the door was closed, the Sheriff continued.

"Did you really believe it was a band of rebels who were responsible?" The Sheriff asked as he moved in toward Hestia's brother. "Or did you in fact, believe it was me?"

"No – I…" the man stammered.

"That's why he tried to stop you, isn't it?" The Sheriff challenged. The man only looked at him.

"Yes, well, we'll find out if your sister was in there. Leave an address with my Scribe so we know where to send word to you." The Sheriff remarked.

"Yes, my Lord." The man said. The Sheriff nodded for the guard to let him go. Just before the man turned to leave the Sheriff spoke.

"You're not from Nottingham, are you?" the Sheriff asked.

"No, my Lord." The man replied.

"Good." The Sheriff said as he clapped his hands together.

When the guard and Hestia's brother left, Guy turned to the Sheriff.

"You were very composed, cousin."

"Yes, Guy. It is necessary." The Sheriff slapped his hand on Guy's shoulder. "You've been out of practice. Yes. What has it been now? Three years since we killed anybody?"

"Yes." Guy said quietly.

"Well you must remember how to act." The Sheriff said as he poured himself a goblet of water and sipped it. Then he called for the guard. The guard appeared in the doorway.

"Bring the other young man to me." The Sheriff commanded.

"Yes, my Lord."

In moments the same young man who brought the message to the Sheriff from the Duke the day before, stood before him.

"My Lord." The young man nodded to him.

"Tell me what happened in the courtyard." The Sheriff demanded.

"Do you really want to know?" The young man replied.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said.

"He was talking rubbish about you. He was accusing you of burning down his sister's home and he didn't care who heard about it. I tried to stop him."

"Why?" the Sheriff probed as he inched closer to him.

"Because I met you yesterday. You did not seem capable to me." The young man replied. He was tall and lean with short brown hair and a sparse mustache. His eyes were greenish blue, and appeared kind.

"You gathered that in five minutes?" the Sheriff asked.

"It just didn't seem possible to me." The young man said.

The Sheriff paused to look upon him, then began to pace about the room. Guy was curious where this was leading.

"You only spoke to me for a few moments, in fact you didn't know who I was until I told you. Yet, you were loyal to me." The Sheriff said, his left eyebrow raised.

The young man maintained his gaze, but said nothing.

"Do you have a wife and family to return to?" The Sheriff asked.

"No, my Lord. I have nothing but an empty manor waiting for me." He replied.

"I could use someone like you around here." He looked to Guy. "Couldn't we, cousin?"

"Indeed, cousin." Guy remarked.

"What is your name, lad?" The Sheriff asked the young man.

"It is Luke, my Lord."

"What are your skills, Luke?"

"Excuse me?" Luke asked.

"What are you good at?" the Sheriff clarified.

"Well, I'm good at riding. Good with a bow."

"Very good." The Sheriff mused, as he rubbed his chin.

"I'm a fast runner. I write rather well, and I can cook!" Luke added enthusiastically.

The Sheriff chuckled. "Well, Luke – that's good to hear, but my soldiers don't do the cooking."

"Soldier?"

"Yes. You can do everything my men can do, except, well, they cannot cook." The Sheriff laughed. "Trust me, I know."

Guy chuckled.

"Oh, great!" Luke said. "When do I begin?"

"I just love to see such eagerness, don't you, cousin?" The Sheriff remarked as he looked over at Guy. Luke was clearly puzzled.

"Oh, yes, Luke. This is my Lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisborne." The Sheriff said as he gestured to Guy. "He just happens to be related to me as well." He grinned.

Luke nodded to Guy. "Sir Gisborne."

"Welcome." Guy said.

"Yes, now…where were we?" The Sheriff began. "Well, Luke, first you require training. You will begin training as one of my guards. Once you've mastered the skills and graduated from that, then you move up into my militia."

"That sounds fine." Luke said. "I am willing to learn and I am a quick study."

"Good." The Sheriff smiled. "I will have the guards show you to your quarters." He nodded to the guard who was standing at attention in the doorway. Luke nodded to the Sheriff, and was escorted from the chamber by the guard.

"You sure you want to do that, cousin?" Guy asked him. "He is not even from here."

"Loyalty is a gift, cousin. That young man was more loyal to me after knowing me for five minutes, than some in this town have shown who've known me for years!" the Sheriff pointed out.

"I suppose you're right."

"I am. I know because my gut instinct tells me I am. And my gut told me not to let that lad get away." The Sheriff said. "I think he will be invaluable to us."

"Perhaps." Guy said. He decided to change the topic. "Earlier you said Lady Rhiannon had awakened?"

"Yes. She has finally come out of that cursed slumber!"

"And how is she?"

"Very weak. But not too weak to argue with Lady Margaret." The Sheriff replied.

Guy chuckled. "I'm sure that's a good sign."

"Indeed. I'm quite relieved."

"Now that we're finished with…Hestia, I can oversee my duties of the dungeon again." Guy suggested.

"That's good." The Sheriff said.

"I thought I'd go there now and interview the prisoner."

"If you can get him to talk, I want to know your technique." The Sheriff remarked.

"Indeed. I didn't have luck with him yesterday. I'm sure not much has changed." Guy said.

The Sheriff didn't respond. He didn't want to encourage Guy. His cousin proceeded anyway.

"There's no point keeping him alive any longer, George." Guy said.

"He offered a great deal of valuable information the night before he became like a mute. If I could only get more out of him!" The Sheriff huffed.

"Well, it would appear you are not." Guy commented.

"He will die, cousin. I've told you this already. But he dies when I decide the time is right." The Sheriff announced.

"Very well."

"And I'd appreciate it if you'd cease pestering me about it. God knows I have enough to concern myself over." The Sheriff sighed.

"Yes, cousin." Guy said as turned to leave.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the dungeon, Guy and the guard Joseph were inside the prisoner's cell. The prisoner hadn't said a word. He continued with the same inaudible mutterings that Guy witnessed the day before when he came by the dungeon briefly.

"Did someone get a hold of the Sheriff's tongue snippers?" Guy shouted. "Who cut out your tongue?"

The guard laughed. Guy looked over at him.

"That's what the Sheriff said!" The guard chuckled. Guy shot him a stern look, and the guard looked away, embarrassed.

"You haven't spoken in days." Guy hissed as he moved in closer to the prisoner. "Why is that?"

The prisoner shook his head silently.

"I don't remember you being speechless before. In fact, it was difficult to get you to hold your tongue!"

The prisoner stood there motionless, keeping his eyes fixed upon Gisborne.

"If it were up to me, you'd be dead by now." Guy snarled. He exited the cell then, impatient with the prisoner. The guard shook his head at the prisoner, then followed Gisborne.

"I need someone in charge of the place to report to me." Guy said to the guard.

"I am Joseph, Sir Gisborne. Yesterday, the Sheriff appointed me jailer until Hector returns." The guard replied.

Guy was surprised. "Is that a fact?" He commented, sarcastically.

"Yes, my Lord." Joseph said.

"Keep a closer eye on our prisoner. Let me know if you notice anything else strange about him – besides the fact he seems to have swallowed his tongue!" Guy spat.

"Yes, Sir Gisborne. It will be done."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And so, in the days that followed, Guy gave a daily report to the Sheriff. The prisoner still continued with his vow of silence. The guards hadn't noticed anything else that was different, except that he was more cooperative than his initial first few days of being held there. The Sheriff found it peculiar, but every time he had a moment to think on it, something always happened that diverted his attention.

A week had passed. Rhiannon was gradually gaining strength. Soon she would be well enough to think about their wedding again. Sometime soon, though it was difficult to predict, the child would arrive. There was much to plan. And still much to try to figure out. Something was causing the Sheriff concern. He had a feeling there was something amiss, but he couldn't quite identify what caused his unease.

He was seated in his office, which was very rare for him. For some reason, however, he felt a sudden need to be shut away for a time, in a dark, quiet room. He was glad to have a moment alone. Perhaps now he could think.

There was a knock at the door. He shook his head. Who knew he was here? It never ceased to amaze him how he could always be found.

"Enter!" the Sheriff called out.

The door opened and the Scribe stood there to greet the Sheriff.

"Yes?" the Sheriff said.

"A message for you from Baron Amos in the North, sire. It is marked 'urgent'."

The Sheriff looked at him curiously. "Do you have it?" He asked.

"Yes, sire. The messenger was told he could leave it with me if you were found to be unavailable." The Scribe said. He went over the Sheriff and handed him the scroll.

"Wait there." The Sheriff said. "Let me see what this is about."

The Scribe obeyed.

The Sheriff pried the wax seal open and unfurled the document.

"_My Lord Sheriff;_

_A curious thing is happening in my county here in the North. I thought you should be informed. Two more maidens have been reported missing. There was nothing for many months, but now, it has started again. Since you've mentioned the same thing happening in the past, about maidens disappearing in your county, I thought it best to warn the matter is a grave concern once more._

_Sincerely,_

_Baron Amos."_

The Sheriff's eyes flew open. Nothing for months, he said, and now? Why now? The Sheriff pondered. This is just like before. Who would…

The prisoner! How long had it been since he'd been behaving so strangely? He hadn't spoken in – what? The Sheriff thought about it. It was over a fortnight! Oddly, he'd been rather cooperative as well. And the business with Hector never sat right with the Sheriff. Suddenly, he knew!

The Sheriff's jaw flew agape. The Scribe looked at him curiously.

"Find me Gisborne!" The Sheriff commanded. "Tell him to meet me in the dungeon at once!" The Sheriff arose from his seat. "And tell him – that I think I found his golden boy."

The Scribe couldn't make sense of the Sheriff's words, but he took note, nodded and exited. The Sheriff kicked the table leg on his way out of the door. Curses! He should have figured this out long ago!


	34. Chapter 34

Fifteen minutes later the Sheriff stormed into the dungeon. Joseph, the new jailer saw him. He'd prefer to ignore the Sheriff, but Joseph greeted him nonetheless.

"My Lord." Joseph addressed him with a nod.

"Wait until I get my hands on him!" The Sheriff seethed in a fury. "Give me the keys!" He shouted to Joseph.

"Which ones?"

"The key that unlocks our hooded prisoner's cell door." The Sheriff drew the words out slowly. "The traitor's door as it turns out!" He spat.

"I have one." Guy said. He had just arrived and was a few feet behind approaching the Sheriff. The Sheriff turned around when he spoke. "What is going on?"

"You'll find out soon enough." The Sheriff said with a snarl. Then he added "And if I'm right, you're going to like this one." He smirked.

Guy raised his brows and tilted his head curiously. He reached into his pocket and handed the Sheriff the key to the prisoner's cell keeping eye contact with him as he did so. They proceeded to the door. The Sheriff quickly unlocked it and pushed it in so it thudded loudly on the wall, as he did the last time he came. The prisoner looked up. The Sheriff stood there a moment and bore a look of hatred into the blue eyes peering out at him from behind the hood. The Sheriff turned to Guy.

"Take a good look, Guy." The Sheriff began as he pointed to the prisoner. "Things are not always as they seem. You think this is our leperous insect friend. The murderer we know as the Fallen Knight?" The Sheriff said as he moved closer toward the prisoner.

Guy gave him a puzzled look.

"No. It is not. In fact, what we have here, cousin is…" The Sheriff inched in closer to the prisoner. "A traitor! Alas, behold your golden boy!" The Sheriff swiftly removed the hood from the prisoner as he spoke the words, and the face of his former jailer, Hector, emerged as the hood lifted. Guy was astonished. Hector's soft blue eyes widened in terror. He was gagged. The Sheriff ripped the rag from his teeth.

"You traitorous little ferret!" The Sheriff barked. "You dare to assist his escape!"

Hector bent his head down in shame and said nothing. He knew there was nothing to say. He unchained the prisoner, and that was when the prisoner became mad. He proceeded to beat Hector. When Hector awoke, he was suspended in chains, and he realized he was in the dungeon, wearing the prisoner's clothes. He knew then he would hang. Yet he prayed the Sheriff would be forgiving when he finally discovered the truth.

The Sheriff grabbed him by the collar and pulled Hector toward him. "You had better start speaking, boy! The only chance you get is here in this dungeon, because don't think there's going to be a trial!" The Sheriff growled.

"He insisted he needed to place the hood over his head himself." Hector began nervously.

The Sheriff shook his head. "So, once again, you felt pity for him. You had no authority to do it, and yet you freed the prisoner! You let a murderer go free! You fool!" He exclaimed.

"I am sorry." Hector muttered.

"It's no use telling me." The Sheriff said. "But perhaps, you can save it for your speech before you die. You can tell the families of the two maidens who have gone missing because of your moronic actions!" The Sheriff let go of Hector's collar. "If we drag this out long enough, I can arrange for their presence at your execution." The Sheriff stated as he patted Hector's cheek.

"My Lord?!" the young guard pleaded.

"You knew the punishment for betrayal!" The Sheriff hissed. "I bade you warning about aiding the prisoners. You went against me, my rules, and you placed people in danger by doing so. You are charged with treason." The Sheriff said matter of factly.

"What?" Hector cried. "No!"

"Anything you say will be used against you." The Sheriff grinned.

Hector shook his head in defeat. He knew nothing could save him. Not now. When the Sheriff, his former master, was in a state like this, there was no turning back. The Sheriff never backed down from his decisions.

The newly appointed jailer looked to the Sheriff. "What would you like me to do with him, my Lord? He was…one of us once." Joseph added quietly.

"He can remain here. But he may be moved out of isolation. It's not as if we're concerned he'll be a risk to the others. He even felt pity for a murderer." The Sheriff said with his jaw clenched.

"Yes, my Lord."

The Sheriff looked at Joseph and added: "Your position here is henceforth permanent."

The jailer nodded. Then the Sheriff turned to Hector. "And your life is henceforth shortened...dramatically." The Sheriff hissed.

Hector kept his head down but lifted his eyes to meet the Sheriff's, and swallowed.

"Tell him just how short a time he's looking at, Gisborne." The Sheriff said to Guy. He moved away from the prisoner to give Guy his moment.

"Indeed." Guy said coldly, maintaining his gaze upon Hector. "This was your first meeting with us. There will be one more." Guy moved in close to Hector. "And then the only other meeting you shall have before you die, is the one with the Bishop as he offers absolution!" Guy snarled.

Hector hung his head. He'd really rather die in this moment.

"Nothing you can say to me will grant your pardon, though you may try the next time we drop in on you." The Sheriff seethed. "You are the most pathetic excuse for a jailer and a guard I have ever encountered. And I thought the useless one that Locksley knocked over with a sack of loaves was the limit. But you! You even beat his idiocy!" The Sheriff spat.

"It was not my intent…" Hector began. He was cut off.

"Silence!" The Sheriff bellowed as he charged toward him. "I don't want to hear it! Do you hear me? I do not care!" He barked. "I've had enough. I cannot even bear to look at you!" He cried out in a rage and swiftly removed his sword from its' sheath. Then he turned and charged toward the lone chair in the room, and thrashed at it. It was split down the center and fell to either side in two pieces.

"Joseph!" the Sheriff bellowed, still standing there, his back to them.

"Yes, my Lord?" the jailer replied.

"Twently five lashes to this prisoner!" the Sheriff commanded as he pointed in Hector's direction using his sword.

Joseph swallowed. Hector used to be a friend of his. "As you wish, my Lord."

"Oh and Joseph?" the Sheriff turned his head back toward him as he put the sword back into its' sheath.

"Yes?"

The Sheriff spun around to face him. "I don't care that this pathetic little ferret used to be one of you!" The Sheriff barked as he hooked the first two fingers of both hands in the air around his last three words. "I do hope you remember the rules about not conversing with the prisoners?" the Sheriff challenged.

"Yes, my Lord." Joseph nodded. He suddenly wished it was his day off today.

"Good." The Sheriff smiled. "Because as you can see - it won't get you anywhere, except earn you a spot at the gallows." He said as he raised his eyebrow. Then he proceeded toward the door.

"No, my Lord!" Hector exclaimed. "Wait!" he pleaded.

As Guy was preparing to leave, he turned and looked at Hector.

"Save it!" he hissed. "You can state your case and plead for your life the next time you see him. Not that he'll listen to you." The Lieutenant shook his head and cast a steely glance with his dark brown eyes upon Hector. "I cannot believe I wasted my breath extolling your virtues defending you to the Sheriff. He is right. You are pathetic." Guy hissed.

Guy didn't say anything to the Sheriff until they were outside of the dungeon.

"How do you wish to proceed?" Guy asked him.

"I need a few moments to think, cousin. I wanted to thrash him to bits instead of that chair!" The Sheriff huffed.

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

"My office." The Sheriff replied. "Give me fifteen minutes, then meet me there."

Guy nodded and left. The Sheriff proceeded on his way there. He hoped he would not run into anyone. He'd be hard pressed to exchange pleasantries at the moment. He was angry at many. He was angry with the guard for his weakness. Angry at the Fallen Knight for tricking him. He was angry at Hestia, even though she was dead, because Guy was kept occupied surveilling her, instead of overseeing the dungeon. And he was angry with himself for being so wrapped up in Rhiannon's recovery, that he failed in his duties as the Sheriff. He was humiliated! If any of his peers knew that he held the man they'd been seeking for years in custody, and then let him get away – how would that look? His reputation would be ruined! That spineless guard was lucky the Sheriff didn't thrust the sword into him instead of that chair!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Guy entered into his private chambers. He needed a moment to think. Everything had just changed in the ten minutes they spent in the prisoner's cell. Never knowing it was Hector the jailer who was chained inside these last seventeen days! He went over to the far corner. There was a washstand there. He poured cool water from a metal jug into a basin, then he placed his hands inside and scooped some water and splashed it on his face.

"Something troubles you." Meridwyn remarked. Guy turned around. She stood behind him.

"My lady. I didn't see you come in." Guy said as he patted his face with a towel.

"No. You walked right by me in the corridor." She stated.

"I did not see you." Guy repeated absently. She looked at him. She was starting to appear more like herself. She wore a pale green gown. Her curly fiery red hair danced upon her shoulders. Guy put the towel down then walked toward her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"My love, I may have to take a journey." He began.

"No! You just got back." Meridwyn cried.

"Well, I'm not certain yet. My cousin and I have to discuss it first. But, if he should choose to send me on this mission, I want to know you'll be waiting when I return." Guy said.

"What kind of a silly thing to say is that?" Meridwyn laughed. "Of course you know I'll be waiting for you."

"As my betrothed." Guy said quietly.

"What?" Meridwyn asked.

"Will you marry me, my Lady Meridwyn?" Guy asked.

"I…I am stunned, my Lord." She finally said.

"And? What say you, my Lady?"

"I will." Meridwyn said, smiling.

Guy kissed her then. If the Sheriff should choose to send him on a search for the Fallen Knight, he would be strengthened knowing his darling Meridwyn would be waiting. She would finally be his Lady Gisborne.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was sitting with his head in his hands, his elbows resting upon the table when Guy came into the Sheriff's office. The Sheriff looked up.

"When do you wish for me to leave, cousin?" Guy asked.

"Leave?"

"Yes."

"I don't wish for you to leave." The Sheriff said.

Guy regarded him curiously. "If you leave, then I shall go with you." Guy announced.

"I'm not leaving either." The Sheriff remarked.

"Cousin?"

"That's what he wants, cousin. He wants to send me on a wild goose chase."

"I don't think it's wise, sire. Someone has to look for him." Guy advised.

"I'll send some of my men." The Sheriff began. "But we really have no vested interest any longer. Except that he escaped my custody." The Sheriff spat. "But think about it – the child is in others hands, they are being pursued separately. Nobody from my county is in danger. Let the Baron tell the Sheriff in his own county to do something about the maidens missing up there!"

"But, cousin!" Guy countered.

"He wants my attention. He's not getting it. Eventually I have a feeling he will venture back here. Right into my hands." The Sheriff grinned.

"Perhaps you should give this matter more thought, cousin." Guy proposed.

"No. There's no need. I had a few moments to myself to simmer down and ponder the matter. At the very least I want to give it a few days. But at this point, I say you and I stay right here." The Sheriff said.

Guy stared at him.

"You seem surprised by my decision." The Sheriff remarked.

"I am." Guy agreed. "It's not like you to sit on your hands."

"That was before I had to consider the lives of other people." The Sheriff replied. "Trust me, it is taking a great deal of restraint not to run down to the stables and mount my mare right now, to charge after that bastard!" The Sheriff growled. He pushed his chair out from the desk and arose from his seat. He walked over to the window and gazed out while he continued. "It is all a game to him, and it's all about getting my attention for some cursed, peculiar reason. If he's not getting my attention, he's going to slip up. I'm sure of it, cousin." The Sheriff turned around to face Guy. "As sure as I'm standing here before you."

"Well, when you explain it that way, I hate to admit it, it starts to make sense." Guy said. "But I think you're being rather arrogant to presume all of his crimes have been centered around you." Guy stated calmly, for he was treading on thin ice and he knew it. "I'm sure you didn't know all of the twenty seven maidens he killed, and the two more I presume he's taken."

"He has." The Sheriff said. He was too taken aback by the rest of what Guy said to comment on it right away. He fixed his eyes upon Guy's a few moments then slowly walked toward him.

"There are far too many coincidences in this cursed puzzle. He has said he blames me for whatever happened to his face. Alas, some of his crimes may have been fueled somehow by me. But I can't imagine how." The Sheriff said.

"Oh, I can." Guy remarked.

The Sheriff eyed him curiously.

"If you'll remember, cousin, you weren't exactly the kindest man about town a few years ago." Guy said. "Then again, neither was I." He chuckled.

The Sheriff regarded him with a halfhearted smile. For he wasn't in the mood for jocularity. "We are not paid to be kind." He said.

Guy cleared his throat. "Right. You are certain this is what you wish to do?"

"I am." The Sheriff said.

"Very well." Guy relented.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the north of the country, Duke Farnsworth and Mordrid were leading the group of the Sheriff's soldiers who were still continuing their search for the Blacksmith and his wife. The men were growing tired and restless, so far they'd turned up nothing.

It was midday. They traveled over hills. The scenery was breathtaking, but none of them paid attention.

"We're traveling in circles, Duke. We must be going in the wrong direction." Mordrid said.

"Maybe we should split up the group. There's still a few villages we haven't hit." The Duke commented.

"It's been nearly three weeks!" Mordrid exclaimed. "By now the Sheriff has received your message, if he's not still out pursuing the man. And what have we accomplished in that time? – Nothing!"

"You must remain focused, Mordrid. No mission is easy. I've seen other searches take much longer than this." The Duke pulled on the reins to slow his horse. Mordrid and the other men followed. The Duke continued. "This is only the beginning." He winked at Mordrid.

He turned the horse around and faced the men. They all halted and gathered before him.

"Men, I know you are all tired, hungry, and bored. But this is a very important mission. We cannot fail my Lord Sheriff. We will separate into two groups and hit all of the villages and surrounding homes in a seventy five mile radius." The Duke instructed.

"It will be months before we are home again." One of the younger dark haired men muttered.

"I figured that out a fortnight ago, Richard. Where have you been?" Mordrid chortled.

"Listen!" The Duke raised his voice and lifted up his hand trying to gain control. "Men! We are making sacrifices, it is true. But we have been entrusted by my Lord Sheriff to carry out this mission. And he has been good to us has he not?"

The men nodded. They held the second highest appointed position from the Sheriff of Nottingham – Black Knights in his militia.

"Cease your complaining." The Duke continued. "Do not think about what you are sacrificing, but think on this: a child has been apart from its' father for three months. They have never even locked eyes. And its' father is our master! We must find the child!"

"You are right, Duke." Mordrid said. "He was very kind to me when Demetria had childbirth complications. He gave me a day and a half off from my duties." He smiled.

"I thought you were ailing because you partook too much mead." Richard joked. The men laughed. Mordrid rolled his eyes. Then he looked to Duke Farnsworth. He wanted to wrap this up expediently, even though he agreed that finding his master's infant was an urgent matter. So Mordrid made a suggestion.

"You and I are the only two of the lot of us who have seen the Blacksmith and his wife, Duke. I think you and I should split up. It doesn't make sense for us to be partners in this case, even though we always are."

"I agree, Mordrid. I was about to suggest the same. We will divide into two groups. Mordrid, you choose three men, I shall choose two." The Duke said.

The Duke and Mordrid made their choices and the two groups of Knights discussed their strategy first – which group would visit which designated villages. Richard was quite talented in the art of cartography. He drew up two maps and distributed them to the Duke and Mordrid. After an hour of discussion, both groups departed and continued on their mission.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon while Rhiannon was taking a walk against the advice of Lady Margaret, she passed by the Council Quarters. The door was ajar so she went inside.

The Scribe was inside placing scrolls on the table. He turned when he heard a noise behind him. Lady Rhiannon stood there in a lavender gown. The sleeves were the colour of a January moon.

"Lady Rhiannon. I did not see you come in. My Lord Sheriff is not here." He spoke.

"Yes. Then – what are you doing here?" Rhiannon asked pointedly.

"I have documents I have drawn up for him. I am unable to find him, but I know he will find these here. They are important."

"Yes. I will see to it that he gets them. I will wait for my Lord in here. I know he comes by here every day." Rhiannon said.

The Scribe felt slightly uneasy about leaving her there, but relented notwithstanding.

After he left, Rhiannon wandered toward the table and touched the scrolls the Scribe had placed there. They were not sealed. Would it hurt for her take a look at them? She was filled with curiosity about the things that filled her lover's day in his duties as the Sheriff. She unrolled one. It appeared to be notes from a meeting. She glanced over it, it looked uninteresting to her so she rolled it and put it back on the table. There was one more. She picked it up an unrolled it. This one seemed interesting. What have we here? Notes from a meeting with a prisoner. She couldn't understand what the first part referred to. Most of it was written in point form:

"_Doorstep. – the home is located in small village. One day's journey to the north from abandoned castle._

_Remaining Fugitives: Locksley's Band of Outlaws_

_John Little/ Little John – whereabouts unknown._

_Bull – whereabouts unknown._

_Much – whereabouts unknown._

_Azeem (Locksley's companion) – no longer living in England._

_Robert Wordsworth – North England – uncertain of exact location."_

She recognized Locksley's name. The Sheriff told her about him – his enemy from years ago, before they arrived back to Nottingham. She recognized one other name on that list. She touched the parchment where the name was scrolled there and let her fingers linger there a moment. No. It cannot be, she told herself. There had to be another with the same name. She looked upon the document a long moment then rolled it again. After she put it back she stepped away from the table, and the door opened. She turned around and looked up. The Sheriff stood before her.

"My lady!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "I did not expect to see you in here." He said as he walked toward her. "You should be resting." He said as he raised his brow.

"I know. But I wanted to take a walk." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed." The Sheriff smiled. "You can walk with me back to my private chambers. And then you can rest." He said.

"I don't want to rest." She said. She cleared her throat. "The Scribe was just in. He left you some documents on the table there." Rhiannon said. She pointed to them.

He eyed her curiously with his left eyebrow raised again. "Really?" he remarked. She was positioned precariously close to that table. Was she about to look at them when he came in?

"Yes. And there's something else." She said, her eyes downcast.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Are you going away on a journey again?" Rhiannon blurted out.

"No, my love. Why do you ask?" The Sheriff said.

"Because I was speaking to Lady Meridwyn. She told me to be prepared."

The Sheriff was puzzled. "Meridwyn told you I was leaving?"

"Sir Guy told Meridwyn that he might be leaving, but he would be discussing it with you first. And so, because he thought he was going on a journey, he asked her for her hand." Rhiannon said.

"It's about time." The Sheriff commented.

"So you are not leaving on a journey then?"

"No, my angel." The Sheriff smiled. "I am staying right here with you."

"Why would Sir Guy assume that he would be leaving?" Rhiannon pressed him. "It sounded like he expected you to send him."

"Yes." The Sheriff said. "We had a problem." He walked toward the table and picked up the scrolls. Rhiannon observed him as he unrolled them and glanced over the Scribe's notes. She knew he clearly did not want to discuss it, but she pressed on anyway.

"You did not answer." She pointed out. "Can you discuss it?"

"Not really." The Sheriff said absently as he continued to glance over the documents. "But I can tell you one of my former guards will hang for treason in the days ahead. I just don't know which one yet." The Sheriff cleared his throat and turned his head to look at her. She looked beautiful. He'd never seen the gown before. It appeared to light her up. "You're going to find out, and I'd rather you heard it from me." He said.

"You're hanging one of your own staff?" Rhiannon asked, incredulous.

The Sheriff slowly walked toward her. She was looking upon him with distaste and disappointment. He tried to shake the intrusive memory of Lady Marian that suddenly came to mind.

"You must trust me, my lady. The evidence is irrefutable. He committed an act of treason, and also put countless lives in danger by doing so." The Sheriff sighed. "I cannot go into it further, but it cannot be reversed. I cannot change the outcome." The Sheriff stated.

"Not even for one of your own?" Rhiannon said. It was a rhetorical question. He knew it, but proceeded anyway.

"The punishment for betrayal is death." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon sighed. "Well I'm sure you have your reasons, my Lord. I do not wish to observe it, however."

"I wasn't expecting you to." The Sheriff reassured. He still didn't like the look upon her face. So he continued to expound a little more on the matter. Just a little of her understanding was all he desired.

"My lady, there is one more thing. Perhaps you'll see it my way when I tell you this: the actions of my guard may be the reason that two maidens are missing now. Perhaps they have men who care for them and are worried. As I once was." He added quietly. "They should not have to endure that. Surely you can understand this better now?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Rhiannon said. "I do. I think I would just feel better if it was not your name appearing on the execution papers." Rhiannon said. She glanced up at him then looked downcast.

"The Writ of Execution." The Sheriff corrected. "Yes. Well, unfortunately my love, that is part of my duties." He said as he placed his hand softly upon her cheek.

"Must you…do that often?" Rhiannon asked tentatively, unsure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Sign the Writ of Execution?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Well, it depends. It goes in cycles you see. I haven't needed to do it for a few years. But sometimes when there is lot going on, then I find I must do it a little more…regularly." The Sheriff attempted to explain. He realized he had said too much.

"Oh." Rhiannon said quietly.

"Rhiannon, if I had another choice in this matter, I would consider it. But I don't. My former guard and jailer must hang." The Sheriff said. "I don't take these matters lightly. It is best for you to leave alone that which you have no understanding of. Alas, I've been doing this a long time."

"Yes, my Lord." Rhiannon acknowledged. The Sheriff had just lectured her, perhaps for the first time. Why did it appear that he was uncomfortable discussing anything pertaining to his duties with her?

The Sheriff placed his hands gently upon her shoulders. "My lady, I am prepared to share my life with you. But you must not question my work. There is much about it you could not begin to understand." He said. "And I do not kill people on a whim." The Sheriff added. Although I used to, he thought.

"I know, my love." Rhiannon said. "And so I will not think on it any longer. Forgive me. I did not mean to question your decision." Rhiannon smiled. Though she was curious to know about the name she saw written on the scroll that the Scribe left for him. But she could not speak of it. If she did, the Sheriff would know she read it.

"Come, my lady." The Sheriff said as he offered her his arm. She took it.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he lead her out of the room.

"Back to the private chambers." The Sheriff announced. "You are still recovering, my lady. You must rest."

She was close enough to him to take in his scent – the combination of musk and English leather.

"I'll stay put…if you stay with me." Rhiannon teased him.

The Sheriff chuckled. "My lady, that sounds rather appealing, yet I do have some other items on my agenda." The Sheriff smiled.

"Indeed, my Lord. And I can think of more interesting items to add to my agenda than sitting idle too." Rhiannon said.

He eyed her curiously, his eyebrow shot north. Yet she didn't see it. She was looking elsewhere, lost in thought. She knew there was no use complaining. She'd have to figure something out on her own. She was going to go out of her mind.

Rhiannon looked up at him as they walked together. He was now focused on the path ahead. She loved this man, would do anything for him. But someday, she hoped he would understand that she was a free spirit, just as he was. And to expect her to sit idle and fill her time with mindless, silly hobbies was completely unacceptable to her. One of these days, she was going to have to tell him. She just wasn't sure how he was going to react. And as much as she desired to be his wife, she was especially nervous about telling him she didn't wish to be a mother right away.


	35. Chapter 35

The following morning, nearing midday, the Sheriff was conducting the town council meeting in the Council Quarters with members of his staff. Not much had changed since the last meeting, and he was eager to proceed to the dungeon with Guy and his Scribe for their second and final meeting with Hector. The Scribe would take down Hector's confession as a matter of record, and the sentence would be read. It was a formal process that needed to be acted upon. Already, preparations were in place for the event, which the Sheriff decided would be the following day. It was an unpleasant task, an uncomfortable situation, and the Sheriff was eager for it to be done.

As the interminable meeting droned on, his thoughts were soon interrupted. The same Black Knight in his militia who spoke at the last meeting was present again at this one. When the Scribe asked around the table if there was anything he missed for the minute taking, the man spoke.

"Yes. If I might implore your lordship once again?" He directed his comment to the Sheriff.

"Yes. What is it?" the Sheriff asked.

"If you'll recall, at the last meeting I spoke of the worn armour some of your men had which needed replacing. The smith indeed created new armour for them. But, alas, we have a new problem."

"I can only imagine." The Sheriff sighed. "What is it now?"

"Some of the hauberks are ill fitting. They are too long." The knight said.

"What?" The Sheriff barked. "You fool. The hauberks are supposed to be at least to the thigh! I'm sure they are the right size indeed." He huffed.

"No, sir. Three of your men have ended up with hauberks past their knees. It interferes with movement."

"Is the smith blind?" the Sheriff retorted.

The knight did not speak, for he knew the question required no answer.

"Fine. The Smith gets one more chance to get it right." The Sheriff said. He looked around the table at the men seated there. "Is there any other points anyone would like to bring to my attention?" he asked. Nobody spoke. The Sheriff arose from his seat.

"I declare this meeting adjourned." The Sheriff said. He nodded to Guy and the Scribe to remain in their seats. After the staff had left, the Sheriff turned to the Scribe.

"Have you drawn up the writ of execution as per my dictation this morning?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, my Lord." The Scribe replied. He handed the scroll to the Sheriff.

"And you." The Sheriff said to Guy. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, cousin."

"Good." The Sheriff said. "Let's get this unpleasantness over with."

And so the three men made their way to the dungeon for a final meeting with the Sheriff's former jailer, Hector, before judgement day.

Joseph lead them to where Hector stood – this time he was chained to a wall among the prison populace, but the chains were slack compared to the isolation cell, allowing him slightly more freedom of movement.

"My Lord." Hector said to his former master when they approached.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. "Now, as my Lieutenant told you yesterday, you'd have one more meeting with us. I don't want to get your hopes up, but I would like as a matter of record, for you to tell me what you can of the night you freed our leperous friend."

"Indeed." Hector said. "It is not much, but I will tell you what I remember."

The Sheriff nodded to the Scribe who poised his chalk above his writing tablet ready to begin writing the words of the prisoner. Hector swallowed.

"I brought him his hood. He asked to have his hands unchained so he may position the hood properly." Hector said quietly.

The Sheriff eyed Hector curiously. It seemed a very shallow reason to unchain a murderer!

Hector sensed the Sheriff's disbelief. He continued.

"He said if the seams weren't placed correctly about his head, it was very irritating to his skin."

"So you agreed." The Sheriff said.

"Yes." Hector said.

"What happened then?" Guy asked.

"He said it was time for my reward. Then he beat me. I tried to fight back, but he overpowered me. And then, when I awoke, I was chained in his cell dressed in his garments." Hector exclaimed.

"That is it?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes."

"That is all you have to say?" The Sheriff repeated.

"That is all I remember." Hector said.

"You have shown yourself to be an accomplice as foolish as insolent." The Sheriff said evenly. He pulled the scroll from under his belt.

"Pay attention." He said to Hector. "Your indictment, and your sentence." The Sheriff remarked as he waved the scroll in front of Hector. Then he unfurled the parchment and began to read:

"Whereas Hector, of the village of Nettlestone, former officer in the Black Knights of Nottingham's Militia, and Jailer of the Nottingham Castle dungeon these last two years, being led astray by evil instigations, contrary to the duty of his allegiance to I, the Sheriff of Nottingham, treacherously assisted in the freeing of a prisoner strongly suspect of multiple murder; I hereby decree the defendant is guilty of treason. Death is deserved, and judgement is this: the defendant shall be taken to the Village Square at high noon on Thursday the fourteenth day of August eleven hundred ninety seven Anno Domini. He shall hang until he be dead." The Sheriff stated nonchalantly.

"No, my Lord! Be merciful! It was not my intent…" Hector was cut off.

"You're beyond mercy, boy." The Sheriff said. "The sentence has been proclaimed by heralds and published throughout the realm."

"No!" Hector cried.

"Not even his supreme pontiff, Pope Celestinus III can save you!" The Sheriff hissed.

"But – that is tomorrow!" Hector exclaimed.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "It shall be carried out tomorrow."

Hector sighed. "Then I have but one request." He said.

"You must be jesting!" Guy chortled.

Hector spoke anyway. "I would like my own clothes." He said. "The sooner the better."

The Sheriff stared at him, rather stunned. It was not the usual request he so often heard from prisoners when informed of their sentence of death.

"What makes you think you deserve it?" the Sheriff asked, pointedly.

"Because despite my folly and misgivings, I was always loyal to you." Hector said.

"Ha!" the Sheriff snorted. "You contravened your loyalty to me twice! After my warning, you committed an act more treacherous than the first!" he laughed.

"Yes." Hector relented.

The Sheriff paced back and forth in front of Hector, unnerving all who stood around him, as he took a moment to ponder the request. Then he found that lending thought to the matter was quickly boring him. Finally, he arrived at a conclusion, and spoke before he would change his mind, as he knew he would.

"You may have your own clothes, but they are not to be issued from the uniform of the Black Knights." The Sheriff announced.

Hector nodded.

"You shall stand a peasant on the scaffold tomorrow." The Sheriff sneered. "The only thing you shall represent of the Black Knights, is being the example of what not to do!"

"Yes, my Lord." Hector said.

The Sheriff sighed and nodded to Guy. He folded his arms then moved aside. Guy took over for his cousin, he knew the Sheriff was too irate to continue at this point.

"Tonight you will be visited by the Bishop of Hereford." Guy said to Hector.

"Right." Hector said. "Absolution. Well, you already have my confession."

"It is customary for the Bishop, or another assigned prison chaplain to visit the condemned prisoners." Guy informed him.

"I'll confess to my God. For I remember the time well." Hector said, suddenly finding an inner strength and strangely – peace, that he didn't know he possessed. Even the Sheriff was curious for he turned around and stared at Hector, surprised by his fearlessness.

"The Bishop of Hereford." Hector began calmly. "His alb is not so white – it is marred in the stains of bloodshed. His mitre is not his halo."

The Scribe looked up from his writing tablet, his mouth agape. Both the Lieutenant and the Sheriff stared at Hector in disbelief at his words. He was insulting the Bishop!

"Alas, his pastoral staff is his sword." Hector said quietly.

The Sheriff flew towards him and grabbed Hector by his collar. "You keep this up, traitor, and the manner of death shall not be so merciful as a simple hanging. Your words are lying perilously close to heresy!" The Sheriff growled.

"Heresy. Ha! He's a friend to the Druids!" Hector exclaimed.

"Enough!" The Sheriff barked.

Hector bent his head down, his eyes downcast. For as much as a dying man's freedom of speech was somehow liberating, he knew he must stop. He did not relish the idea of burning at the stake.

"So... it is established that there will be no visit this night granted from the Bishop of Hereford." Guy directed the Scribe to write, taking over from his cousin again, momentarily.

"Indeed." Hector spoke.

The Sheriff drew in a heavy sigh and looked at Hector.

"Do you have anything else to confess, or say at this time? As a matter of record of course." The Sheriff asked.

"No." Hector said. "I'm saving everything for my moment on the scaffold, if I am still permitted to speak."

The Sheriff took another look upon him, then nodded to Guy and the Scribe. They took their leave and left the condemned man to his last moments. There was nothing more to be said.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day was fair. There was a warm light breeze wafting the scent of heather over the moors beyond the gardens. The sky was azure blue. Large fluffy cumulus clouds floated lazily in the sky as ladies Meridwyn and Rhiannon lay on the soft warm grass side by side, staring up at the scenes the clouds created on its' bright blue canvas, dreaming of their lovers.

Lady Rhiannon was holding a daisy and sniffing the bloom when she spoke.

"My man is rather preoccupied of late, Meridwyn. There is something troubling him."

"Normally I would tell you there is nothing unusual about that." Meridwyn began. "But I've noticed the same thing about Guy?"

"They seem to have a lot to manage being back home. George hasn't even mentioned the wedding to me in quite a few days?" Rhiannon remarked.

"Guy hasn't said another word about our nuptials since he proposed." Meridwyn mused.

"Is that surprising to you? Or would you expect that from him?" Rhiannon prodded.

"Yes, I would say it is indeed surprising." Meridwyn replied. She cleared her throat and looked over at Rhiannon. "Just before I met him he was a raging bastard, but let me tell you something, friend. That man has always been very kind and loving to me. When he asked for my hand the glimmer in his eye was unmistakable." She smiled. "It is very unusual he hasn't said another word to me about it. He hasn't even suggested a date!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"They've been involved in something together, Meridwyn. I'm certain of it." Rhiannon said as she toyed with the daisy.

"I'm sure they just have a lot of concerns they need to take of care of." Meridwyn assured.

"Yes." Rhiannon said. She thought again about the scroll she saw on the desk in the Council Quarters with the names of the men listed there still wanted by her lover. And the name she knew – listed among them. She quickly cast the thought aside.

"I'm going to do something to get my lover out of his bout of melancholia." Rhiannon announced.

"Oh?" Meridwyn said as she sat up and smoothed her hair. "What is that?"

Rhiannon suddenly shot up, then pulled herself into a standing position looking down at Meridwyn. "I know how much my George wishes to marry. He has said several times – though not lately – he wants to do it soon. And damn it – I kind of like the idea of being his wife!" Rhiannon exclaimed giddily.

"Kind of like your claim to the man that every other maiden in this town – except I, of course – would kill you for!" Meridwyn laughed.

"If you say so." Rhiannon said.

"Oh...indeed." Meridwyn replied as she got up. They slowly made their way back towards the gardens that circled the castle.

"The Sheriff thinks I'm uninterested in the wedding." Rhiannon began.

"Yes?"

"So I'm going to surprise him. He mentioned to me once he knows the best seamstress in Nottingham. Do you know who he could possibly be referring to? I cannot ask him." Rhiannon said.

"There are three I know of, but only one who is highly skilled. Madam Oberon does very fine work. I'm sure the Sheriff refers to her." Meridwyn stated.

"Can you take me to her, Meridwyn? In the morning?" Rhiannon asked.

"Of course. We'll have to make it an early start. It's going to get very busy in the village tomorrow. And the merchants will close their shops early so they can witness the execution." Meridwyn advised.

"Yes." Rhiannon said quietly. She didn't want to think about it.

"It is the first one in three years." Meridwyn said. "It is being talked about all over town. We better be careful. The Sheriff still has enemies. Wait until they find out you are his bride!"

"Well I'm not going to hide it, so they had better get used to it." Rhiannon stated calmly, undaunted by the statement. "Early is fine. I want to be back and locked away somewhere quiet in the castle, long before the execution takes place." She said to Meridwyn.

Meridwyn nodded. "Then we shall leave early. Meet me in the main hall after sunrise."

"I will be there." Rhiannon said.

"How will you explain yourself to the Sheriff?"

"I'm hoping to be gone before he wakes." Rhiannon smiled.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As they walked the corridors following the meeting in the dungeon, the men didn't speak for some time, then Guy broke the silence.

"Is everything in place for tomorrow, cousin?"

"Yes." The Sheriff said.

"The first execution in three years. It seems a shame he should hang." The Scribe remarked absently.

The Sheriff stopped dead in his tracks and turned to the Scribe. "You know – I really wish people would stop questioning my decision!" He hissed.

"It does seem a little…harsh." Guy proposed.

"How can you say that?" the Sheriff exclaimed. "After all we've been through? He freed a man who could have easily killed our ladies. My child! My child is still in danger because of him. And I'm supposed to forgive that traitorous golden boy for that? Never!" The Sheriff spat. "So get ready. You do remember how to conduct yourselves at a public hanging I trust?" He sneered at the both of them, then continued on his way. Guy and the Scribe followed behind.

"Forgive me, cousin." Guy said as he caught up to him. "Sometimes I forget about the child. It still seems rather surreal."

"Well it will be very real soon. And we must make plans." The Sheriff said. "Do you still have your manor in Nettlestone?" He asked Guy.

"Yes."

"I'd like permission to make arrangements for the child's temporary lodging there until I am wed – if the child arrives before then." The Sheriff said.

"Absolutely." Guy agreed. "But who shall care for the child?"

"I'm going to assign Lady Margaret with a lady in waiting. And I'm going to commission Lady Margaret to find me a wet nurse until Rhiannon can resume the duty." He announced.

"Do you know approximately how old the child is now?" Guy asked him.

"Three months." The Sheriff responded without hesitation.

"You're certain?" Guy asked.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. "Lady Margaret told me she guessed Lady Rhiannon delivered the child only hours before we found her. We found her on Mayday. Mayday is the day of my child's birth." He said solemnly.

"And you shall behold your child soon, cousin." Guy reassured.

"I hope so…" The Sheriff said. Suddenly he longed to hold this child. The one he made with his lady. He was learning as he went along that a man's paternal instinct was innate and primal.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was late. Duke Farnsworth was traveling through a small village in the north with Richard, the young dark haired knight known for his skills in cartography; and another knight who was older than Richard. He was tall like the Duke, but fair haired with green eyes.

They were casually riding alongside one another, a purple sky ahead on the horizon when the older knight spoke.

"I fear the Blacksmith may be long gone, Duke. I wonder if we shall ever find him?"

"Maybe the other group is having better luck?" Richard interrupted him. "They are following a different map."

The Duke didn't say anything for a moment. He was grateful that Richard was talented, his skills had been useful in many a mission. Suddenly, the Duke had an idea.

"Richard." The Duke addressed him. "Can you draw…people?"

"Yes, I can." Richard smiled.

"Bullocks!" the other guard laughed.

"That is a fact, Nigel." Richard said.

"Prove it!" Nigel challenged.

"Yes." The Duke said. "Prove it. I have a challenge for you. If I described a person to you, could you draw it from my description?"

"I've never attempted it that way, but I could try." Richard said.

"Good." The Duke smiled. "We need to stop somewhere. I have a task for you."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something was amiss. Rhiannon knew it and had sensed it every day ever since she awakened. The Sheriff was distracted, tense, and unusually quiet. She tried to tell herself she was imagining it, or that perhaps he was worried about her because of her recent illness. But Meridwyn confirmed her suspicions hours earlier, that she was sensing the same thing from Guy. Both men were behaving strangely. Why?

She entered into the den outside of the private chambers. Was she getting ahead of herself with her plans in the morning? What if the Sheriff changed his mind? He hadn't mentioned anything to her about their wedding in days. That was the biggest indicator something was awry. Her eyes caught a light glistening on the table near to the fireplace. There was a candle burning there. Beside it – the silver decanter containing the magical potion. The Sheriff's favourite brandy. He even created a special name for it: tincture of rapture. She was beginning to feel anxious about meeting Madam Oberon. And not just about Madam Oberon, but her reason for seeing her. Was she making a mistake?

And…would the Sheriff be angry if he found some of the brandy had 'evaporated' from the flask? Rhiannon walked toward it, then poured herself a generous libation in a goblet that was available on the table beside it. She remembered what Meridwyn said: _"Kind of like your claim to the man that every other maiden in this town – except I, of course – would kill you for!"_ Rhiannon smiled. It pleased her that she would be his wife. She took a generous gulp of the brandy to quiet her worries. And she remembered the day her eyes cast their first look upon him.

Before they even spoke she felt things for him she was unable to identify. She was almost chilled. For it was as if by a trick of the hand, someone had conjured him to life by looking into her dreams. Her thoughts. Her vision she held in her mind most of her life of her dark prince on a regal black steed who would one day appear – when she ever allowed herself to dream at all. She took another generous swig of the brandy. She was beginning to feel warm and relaxed. And suddenly, she was in the garden, near the garden wall, sniffing a perfect white rose in the afternoon mist. And she could almost hear that chocolate baritone voice speaking – "My lady." My lady. And up close to her he was more perfect than her dreams imagined. She smiled. Maybe Eddie and Robert sent him? That was just like them – looking out for her. If they couldn't protect her, they'd send to her a Sheriff who would.

He was tall with a regal air about him. He was confident and powerful. On first glance he appeared as someone you would dare not cross. Yet at the same time, for Rhiannon, he inspired a need to penetrate through his shell. She was drawn to him straightway. His raven black hair gleamed, it was wavy and fell to his collar. Those eyes. Those fierce, glowing, amber hazel eyes, full of mystery and erotica. His lips were full and upturned almost into a smirk, even when he wasn't consciously smiling. And they were framed by a perfect neat beard that complimented his looks and added to his exotic, mysterious appeal. That was her first close up glance of the Sheriff of Nottingham. And now… she would be his wife.

She took another long draught from the goblet. She was feeling warm, light, and giddy. Remembering what attracted her to her lover. What made her fall in love with him. She was living a perfect life. Rhiannon felt incredibly light and carefree as she carelessly walked to the private chambers. She took the flask of brandy with her, along with the goblet. Once inside, she walked over to a chest where she kept some of her clothes. She opened it and found a pale yellow chiffon scarf the colour of butter which she sometimes wore to cover her hair at mass. She poured more of the brandy into her goblet, filling it again then took a sip. She reached into the chest and extracted the scarf, then took it and her goblet and strode over to the mirror on the wall near the window.

The Sheriff was heading down the corridors, his boots clicked confidently on the stone floor. He was angry. He was tired of being questioned at every turn about his decision to hang Hector. On another note he was angry that he was forced into a position where he had to steal into a woman's home and kill her. And he was most of all angry at the Fallen Knight for tricking him. He was using all of his self control to stop himself from chasing after the bastard. But the Sheriff knew he had to be patient to play this game and win. Unfortunately, patience was a character trait that was beyond the Sheriff's grasp.

He was near to the door of his private chambers when he saw his usual sentry there. He nodded to him, then suddenly noticed Luke with him.

"Good evening, Luke." The Sheriff said to him.

The guard who was training Luke was puzzled. He glanced curiously upon the Sheriff and the new lad he was working with.

"My Lord." Luke nodded to the Sheriff.

"Is uh…." The Sheriff nodded to the other guard as he kept his eyes upon Luke's "he teaching you anything? Being fair to you?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond but lost his opportunity.

"Alfred." The guard beside him suddenly spoke.

"Pardon?" the Sheriff said hurriedly to the other guard.

"My name is Alfred." The guard said.

The Sheriff stared at him curiously, his eyebrow raised.

"I've worked for you for two years." Alfred pointed out. He sighed. How was it that the Sheriff knew the new guy by name after only eight days of service?

"Yes." The Sheriff remarked casually. Then he looked at Luke again. "Is everything to your liking?" the Sheriff asked.

"Indeed, my Lord." Luke smiled.

"Good." The Sheriff said. "Well, I will leave you to Albert then as I retire for the night." He said as he patted Alfred's shoulder then opened the door. Alfred rolled his eyes. After the oak door closed behind the Sheriff, he shook his head and muttered "It's Alfred."

Automatically the Sheriff walked in the direction where his flask of brandy was always kept waiting for him. His mind was so filled with scattered thoughts he wasn't paying attention at all to his surroundings. When he reflexively extended his arm to grasp the decanter was when he was jolted to reality. Where was it? He looked at the table. The decanter was missing. Oddly, there was a silver goblet missing too. Curses! He had ordered the servants never to move it! He needed it. He was angry…

Only two things served to calm him when he was this enraged: the tincture of rapture and wild uninhibited lovemaking. There was nothing like rage as an aphrodisiac. He cast the thought aside as he muttered obscenities under his breath and quickly removed his coat. He tossed it carelessly over a chair as he strode toward the door that lead into the private chamber. He opened the door. And then he stood still at the vision that assaulted his eyes.

Lady Rhiannon stood before the mirror, her back to him. She had a diaphanous buttery yellow chiffon scarf covering her hair and draped across her face as she peered into her reflection. She was laughing and holding onto a silver goblet. Just then she swiftly removed the scarf and threw it on the floor. He folded his arms, a smirk spread across his face as he watched her. She picked up the decanter that sat on the table below the mirror, lifted it to her lips and took a draught from the flask. She was drunk. So his tincture of rapture was gone. It was too far to walk to the cellar for another bottle. It had been a long day. He would have to settle for the other cure. The only other thing that would tame the beast within.

"My lady." He spoke in a low growl.

There were those words again. Rhiannon laughed. "Yes. That is how it all began." Rhiannon said. "My lady!" she laughed.

He walked toward her. She still didn't realize he was there. How much had she drunk? She stirred at the sound of his footsteps and turned around.

"Oh!" She said somewhat startled. "There you are. My prince." Rhiannon sighed as she blinked a few times taking in the sight of him. He was erotically even more handsome when he seemed so far away. So distant. She tried to focus but her vision was blurred. For in fact, he was only two feet away from her. She began to sway. He caught her.

"Would you like a little sip?" She playfully asked as she jiggled the silver goblet inches in front of his face.

He took the goblet from her and downed the remaining contents, what little there was left of the soothing dark amber liquid. "Yes." The Sheriff grinned.

"That's okay." She smiled. "I got more over there!" Rhiannon said as she turned to point to the decanter then nearly slumped to the floor.

The Sheriff's response was swift. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Her gown was open and her breasts peaked through, directly in his line of vision. He carefully placed her on the bed. Then he kicked off his boots and fell beside her on the bed. She looked up at him. She finally found his eyes. They were like pools of amber fire burning into hers. She sat up and faced him.

"In case you haven't noticed, my Lord, I am better now." She teased.

"Yes." He grinned. "I see that." The Sheriff laughed. "But I doubt you will say that in the morning."

Rhiannon caught her breath. Did he know about her plans for the morning? "Why do you say that?" she asked him.

"Oh, I don't know if I should spoil the mood you're in." The Sheriff grinned as he stroked her silky sable hair. It flickered gold and crimson waves of light as the candlelight reflected from it. Then he let his hand wander over her velvety soft shoulder.

Rhiannon shook her head. "No. Tell me." She said.

"Well, you seem to have enjoyed a few goblets of my brandy." The Sheriff began. " And sometimes, the result in the morning after is rather unpleasant."

"It is?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. You might not feel so good then." He said.

"Oh." Rhiannon replied. She smiled as she looked into his eyes. He was already stirred by her, but felt something more when she looked at him then. "But I feel good now." She said. Her soft green eyes glistened in desire.

"Yes, I'm sure you do." The Sheriff smiled.

He pulled her in close to him and kissed her hungrily. She became breathless. He explored her mouth with his tongue. Rhiannon felt a warmth travel through her body, it made her hungry for more. Suddenly they were caught up in a spell. A lovers spell so primal that neither of them could ever back down. The Sheriff slowly removed her gown as he kissed her. Then he quickly broke free and quickly took off his tunic casting it aside.

"I need my skin to be next to yours." He growled. She pulled him back down beside her and he reclined back to the silky down pillows. She began to kiss him and let her lips softly trail downward. Over his soft beard, his neck, over his smooth chest and muscled abdomen. Her kisses were soft, and feather light. Her caress was setting him afire. He remembered what she did for him that night near the waterfall. What she did to him with her tongue. He wanted more of it. He gently placed his hands on either side of her head and encouraged her toward the part of him he wanted her to taste.

Rhiannon smiled. So he did like what she did for him then? She was never really sure, and too embarrassed to speak of it again. She obliged. She slowly reached over, untied the strings to his codpiece and cast it aside. Then she slowly unlaced his breeches. The soft fabric caressed his skin as it fell away, open to her touch.

She took him in her hand expertly working him to a heightened state of arousal. He gasped when he felt her tongue touch him, and her lips enclose him. The soft touch of her tongue encircling, teasing, and stroking him along with her hand. His heart began to race and he felt a heat course through him. In his dreams he never would have imagined a lady who would be willing to please him like this. When in fact most maidens had appeared to be afraid of his touch. Her movements were slow in the beginning, until she gradually picked up the pace into a heightened frenzied rhythm. His need was overpowering. He forgot himself and grasped her head lifting her from him. She looked up into his eyes. In a glance she felt that sudden familiar hot desire he created in her as he burned his eyes into hers. He sat up and turned her over. She grabbed onto the bed frame when he grabbed her hips from behind her and carefully pulled her toward him then thrust himself into her.

She never knew it could be like this. So raw. So intense. So primal - like animals mating. But for some bizarre reason, she liked it. Every time they were together he took her to new places, new heights. And like a drug, alas, like the tincture of rapture, it always left her wanting more.

The Sheriff reached around and touched her soft firm breasts as he bent forward and leaned in close to her ear.

"My lady. You are so beautiful…" He breathed as he moved inside of her.

She was dizzy with ecstasy. The feel of him moving within her. The erotic sounds of his voice in her ear. His warm breath on her neck. His soft whiskers tickling her skin. His touch. Alas, the effects of the brandy. How much did she drink? Why had she never felt anything like this when they were together before, she wondered. It was all so different. So incredible. The sensations so heightened, so intense.

"I love the way you touch me." Rhiannon sighed as she arched her back. "Give me more, my love." She breathed as she matched her movements to his. And he did. Over and over, until they fell asleep exhausted, hours later. Their bodies glistening in sweat as they clung to one another like the stars did in the sky.

The sky changed from navy blue to purple when dawn loomed. The executioner checked the knot of the noose that hung from the gallows before daybreak. It was secure. He was satisfied.


	36. Chapter 36

"Thursday 14 August 1197 Anno Domini

My Lord Sheriff;

Your men are now divided in two groups. Richard created maps and we follow separate paths in pursuit. The result of that proved invaluable to our mission. Alas, enclosed you will find here two drawings which were penned by your talented officer, Master Richard. I believe you shall find them useful…" Duke Farnsworth penned on one of the last bits of parchment left, for his master, the Sheriff of Nottingham.

It was daybreak in the north of England. The day was fair which lent itself well to the task Richard was occupying his time with. Richard sat against a large rock. His knees were raised supporting his easel – a flat rock used as a surface for the parchment. He used coal as the medium to draw the face of the person the Duke described. Alas, it proved a difficult task. With nothing to go by but another man's memory, and not actually seeing what he was commissioned to draw, a great wad of crumpled up parchment grew in a pile near to the fire in the clearing where the three men used to complete this part of the mission.

Nigel pushed his long unruly blond hair from his face and strode over to the pile of rejected drawings, curious. He bent down and picked one of the crumpled pieces up and unfolded it staring at the drawing.

"Aye, mate! You _**can**_ draw. I'm impressed." Nigel said.

"Well I thank you, but I shall be more impressed when I get this right." Richard said. He put the charcoal down and used his fingertips to blend it on the parchment over the outlines and curves of the face. Satisfied, he picked it up and held it out in front of him to show to Duke Farnsworth.

"Okay, how about now? Is this better?" He called.

"The eyes are too far apart." The Duke remarked as he studied it by squinting his eyes. He had put his letter to the Sheriff down. He would complete it when he was satisfied with Richard's drawings.

"I only altered them slightly." Richard lamented. "The last time you said they were too close together!"

The Duke rubbed his chin and narrowed his blue eyes. His red hair shone in the light as the tangerine glow of dawn changed to a lemony hue in the horizon behind him.

"Well, now they are too far apart." The Duke said. "Yes, much too far apart. Oh and the forehead is too broad as well."

"Then I shall have to start again." Richard sighed as he took the drawing, crumpled it and cast it to the increasing heap ahead and to the right of him.

"Is there anything else I should change?" Richard asked the Duke. "I fear we will run out of paper soon."

"No." Duke Farnsworth said. "You're nearly there. Everything else you captured is perfect."

Richard sighed as he picked up another piece of blank parchment. Usually it was one of his most favourite things to hold in his hands. It was his license. Upon it he could create anything of his own free will, call it his own, and enjoy every moment of the coal in his fingers and the feel of the paper beneath his hand. But now, he was growing tired and frustrated with himself. For as an artist he was eager to get it right. But as one of Nottingham's Black Knights, he knew this would earn him accolades from his master, the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Nigel was restless, for he was not occupied with a task at the moment.

"How much longer will this take? We are wasting time." Nigel pointed out to Richard.

"If all goes well, this will take me one more hour." Richard said as he looked down upon the parchment as he began to create.

"Good." Nigel said.

"Yes." The Duke called to them from where he sat on the other side of the fire pit. "And then we just have one more person of interest for Richard to capture." He smiled.

Nigel sighed. "This could take all day!" He exclaimed.

"Indeed." Richard huffed.

"I have a task for you, Nigel." The Duke said. "Go into the village. Get us some more parchment paper and coal for Richard. And find me a messenger. These documents will be sent to his lordship as soon as they are completed." He instructed Nigel.

"Very well." Nigel said.

"Curses!" Richard muttered as he threw the coal to the ground and crumpled the parchment, angrily tossing it to the pile of rejects.

The Duke shook his head and grinned, amused by the outburst.

"Well, at least we have kindling." Nigel chortled. As he walked by Richard on his way over to his horse he leaned down and winked at him. "I'll, err… take my time." He joked. And then he was on his way.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

In Nottingham, the weather was unlike the north. Here the day was grey and unseasonably cool. A heaviness was settling in the air. It foretold of impending rain, and death.

Rhiannon and Meridwyn strolled together through the village of Nottingham. Rhiannon had a pounding headache, her entire body ached in places that she never imagined could possibly hurt. She wanted to drink incessantly, she cursed that she never thought to bring with her a flask of water. She felt worse than she did while she recovered from both of her fevers! She remembered what the Sheriff said, about the morning after overindulgence of spirits and… what was it he said? Oh yes. Unpleasant. Is this what he would call unpleasant? That's funny. She was thinking it was more along the lines of agonizing. It made it difficult for her to bask in the afterglow of her night with her lover. Because if she didn't feel such agony, she'd be over the moon. Maybe it was a good thing she overindulged. Right now her malaise matched the weight of the day that lie ahead.

Scores of people were already out in the village and there was much talk going on in the streets as they made their way to Madam Oberon's home, which was located just outside of the village. Rhiannon heard many exclamations from people around her.

"The Sheriff has gone back to his old ways." She heard a woman remark.

"They say the sentence is unjust!" A man cried.

"Ha! You should have seen what happened here in ninety four!" Another man said as she passed by the two men.

Later, as they neared the home they were searching for she heard a brief conversation between two old women as she and Meridwyn passed by them.

"And they say he had changed." The first woman said. "Mark my words, Ophelia – the evil Sheriff has returned."

"Indeed. Did you know in ninety four, he threatened to cut Robin of Locksley's heart out?" Another woman exclaimed.

"No!" the first one said.

"Indeed! With a spoon!" The second lady cried.

"Sweet Jesus."

Rhiannon shuddered. Perhaps venturing out into the village this day was a terrible idea. Within minutes during a chance meeting with another maiden in the village, she truly regretted she chose this day to meet the woman who would measure her for her wedding gown. Because soon a sour taste of the bitterest gall tainted her spirits. She would be changed within hours, yet she did not know.

Madam Oberon had a modest manor which she occupied with her daughter outside of the village of Nottingham. It was a manor created of stone and wood. Lady Meridwyn banged on the heavy oak door using the iron ring that hung upon it. Within moments a slender middle aged woman with nary a wrinkle, sparkling pale blue eyes, and silvery hair opened the door. Despite her age she was a very attractive lady with fine boned features, kind eyes, and a welcoming smile. Her hair was fashioned in an elegant neat chignon. It glowed like a celestial orb upon her head. The fragrant smell of lemon assailed their noses as it clung easily to the heaviness of the air.

"Bonjour." Madam Oberon spoke in a soothing voice. She smiled. "Mademoiselle Meridwyn, what brings you here this day?"

"I'd like you to meet my friend, Lady Rhiannon, Madame. She is interested in a gown fashioned by you." Lady Meridwyn replied.

"Indeed." Madam Oberon smiled as she clapped her hands together. "Come in sil vous plait. You are just in time. My daughter has just taken a fresh lemon pie from the oven." She said. The two women followed her inside.

She directed them to a large room near the sitting room. There were bolts of various fabrics and textiles neatly arranged on tables and shelves as well as various sewing supplies, and some of her completed work. Beautiful gowns hung on hangers on hooks on the walls. Among them, a curious creation. Rhiannon spotted it straightway. A long black satin gown with delicate beading on the bodice. The sleeves fitted to the elbows then flared out into a trumpet sleeve at the wrist. Beside it hung a sheer lace veil. Oddly, the veil was black as well. Rhiannon slowly walked toward it. It chilled her to look upon it yet she was oddly drawn to it.

"Isn't this indeed interesting, Meridwyn?" She called to her friend and pointed to the gown when Meridwyn looked up. "Why…it appears almost to be a wedding gown?"

"Interesting colour for it." Meridwyn remarked. "She must be one brave lady. For surely _**that**_ couldn't bring any luck to the marriage. Never mind the marriage bed." Meridwyn chuckled.

"Indeed." Madam Oberon commented. "Not all wedding gowns are created alike." She said as she picked up several yards of heavy cotton and took it to the wall where the gown hung and draped the fabric over it, covering the gown from their view.

"That is not a wedding gown – is it Madame?" Lady Meridwyn asked, incredulous.

"Mes Amis." Madam Oberon smiled at them. "You must not concern yourselves with that gown." She looked to Lady Rhiannon.

"What kind of gown are you interested in, Mademoiselle Rhiannon? A gown for day? For a special celebration or feast perhaps? Yes. Michaelmas is fast approaching. Or perhaps, something for evening?" She said as she drew closer to Rhiannon. She rested her right hand upon her chin, her left hand supported her elbow as she studied Rhiannon.

"I am in need of a wedding gown." Rhiannon said. "Can you create one for me?"

"A wedding gown, Mademoiselle!" Madam Oberon smiled. "C'est magnifique!"

"Yes." Rhiannon smiled. "Are you skilled in the art of creating wedding gowns? For I know that is a great undertaking."

"Mademoiselle Rhiannon." Madam Oberon began. "I am Arianna Oberon of Paris." She pronounced Paris as Paree Rhiannon noted. "I come from a long line of tailors and dressmakers. I made my first gown at seven. Indeed, I shall create for you the most beautiful gown in all of Nottingham. C'est bon!" she said.

"Splendid!" Lady Rhiannon said, smiling.

"Now, my dear, what is my time frame? For the fabric weight is dictated by the season. If your wedding will be in the winter I need heavier weaves you see." Madam Oberon said in her soothing sing song voice.

"I'm not certain." Rhiannon said. "Before winter definitely. Late summer or autumn, but before Michaelmas." She guessed.

"Good." Madam Oberon said. "Your fabric choice? Will it be satin? Silk? Brocade? Chiffon?"

"I can't begin to decide. Perhaps you can guide me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui." Madam Oberon nodded. Just then there was a knock on the door.

"Excuse moi." Madame Oberon said as she took her leave to answer the door.

"These gowns are exquisite." Meridwyn exclaimed as she touched one that was hanging before her.

"Indeed. The Sheriff was right, Meridwyn. My gown shall be perfect! I'm sure of it." Rhiannon smiled.

"I'd still like to know the mystery behind the black one." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon shuddered. "I'm not sure I want to know. I got chills down my spine looking at it." Rhiannon said.

Footsteps approached and the voices of Madam Oberon and another young woman drew nearer. Ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn kept quiet as they came to the threshold. Madam Oberon was with a young lady. She was of medium height, slender, with long flowing golden wavy hair and misty blue eyes. Her eyes were rimmed red. Her skin ghostly white. She looked to be trembling.

"Excuse us un moment." Madam Oberon said to Rhiannon and Meridwyn. "I shall be with you shortly."

The ladies nodded and stepped aside. They couldn't help overhearing the conversation however.

"My gown, Madame. Is it ready?" the young woman asked.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Brigid. It is exactly to your specifications."

"Thank you, Madame." The woman said. "And just in time. For I only have a few hours to spare before I must wear it."

Madame Oberon walked toward the wall where a vast array of gowns hung. She pulled the drape off of the black gown then pulled it down along with the black veil and was offering it to the woman. Meridwyn caught site of the transaction and poked Rhiannon. Rhiannon was startled and looked up from the white silk she caressed in her fingers. Meridwyn nodded toward Madam Oberon and the young woman. Rhiannon turned her head following the path of Lady Meridwyn's vision. The young woman was taking the black gown! That was her gown? She asked for it to be so?

"If you would like to try it on?" Madam Oberon suggested.

"There is probably no need." The young woman said, her eyes downcast.

"It was very large on you the last time." Madam Oberon soothed. It was poor advice but her intention was pure.

"Alright then…quickly." The woman said. She took the gown and veil and slipped away into another room.

"Now." Madam Oberon said as she turned towards Rhiannon and Meridwyn. "What kind of wedding will this be? Morning? Midday? Evening?" She asked as she walked toward Rhiannon.

"Stately." Lady Meridwyn interrupted.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle?" Madam Oberon asked.

Rhiannon noticed the young woman, Brigid, had come back and was standing in the doorway. The black gown and veil were draped over her arms. She looked close to…tears?

"Oui, Madame." Meridwyn said. "It shall be a stately wedding indeed. My friend, Lady Rhiannon is engaged to marry the Sheriff of Nottingham." She smiled knowingly and nodded.

The young golden haired woman, Brigid flew into the room suddenly. She charged toward Rhiannon pushing Meridwyn aside and spat in Rhiannon's face.

"Murderer!" She cried. "You're marrying a murderer!"

"Mon dieu." Madam Oberon muttered under her breath.

Rhiannon angrily wiped the spittle from her cheek with a handkerchief she found in her skirt pocket.

"Why, you wretched little toad!" Meridwyn hissed at the woman as she bolted toward her.

Madam Oberon reached out and grabbed Meridwyn's arm gently and shook her head giving a warning to silence her. Meridwyn eyed Madam Oberon curiously.

"Come, Mademoiselle." Madam Oberon said to Brigid as she guided her away from the two women.

"I was supposed to be getting married too!" Brigid shouted to Rhiannon from across the room. "Why don't you ask your lover why I'm not? Alas! The Sheriff has made me a widow, before I can even grant my lover one night in the marriage bed. May you both rot in hell!" Brigid wailed.

"Your payment." Brigid said as she handed Madam Oberon gold coins in payment for the gown. The gown which was supposed to be her wedding gown.

Rhiannon was clearly shaken. After Brigid had left, Meridwyn turned to Madam Oberon.

"Who on earth was that wretched woman?" She asked.

"That was Mademoiselle Brigid. She is engaged to Hector." Madam Oberon said.

"Who on earth is Hector?" Meridwyn cried. "What's he famous for?"

"The man who is scheduled to hang this day in the village square." Madam Oberon said.

Rhiannon's eyes widened, her head shot up at once. "She was to be married to the man the Sheriff has sentenced to die?" Rhiannon asked in awe.

"Oui, Mademoiselle." Madam Oberon said solemnly. "Two days ago she asked me to dye her wedding gown and headpiece black." It thought it strange until she told me why."

"Indeed." Lady Meridwyn sighed.

Rhiannon looked away. She felt hot tears brimming in her eyes. They were dangerously close to spilling onto her cheeks. She had to control it. She bit her lip and took deep breaths.

"Rhiannon, come. Let Madam Oberon measure you for your gown." Lady Meridwyn offered. For she sensed Rhiannon's anxiety.

Rhiannon shook her head. Her eyes closed shut to prevent the tears from issuing forth. This was a mistake to choose this day of all days to meet the seamstress. She could not endure. She needed to get back to the castle. She looked up at the two women.

"Thank you Madam Oberon, I will be in touch." A beat. "I'm sorry."

Then she flew out of the room and out of the door. She ran out onto the street. Voices assaulted her as she made her way through the village.

"Are you going to the hanging?" A woman said.

"I heard he refused the Bishop!" A man remarked.

"The sentence is unjust. Alas, there was no trial!" Another man declared.

She wanted to scream. How dare they? How dare they question the actions of her betrothed, the Sheriff of Nottingham!

She wandered aimlessly. She knew not where she was going at first for she was lost in thought. Time did not move for her. Her mind was racing so much she didn't realize how much time she had wasted. Until it was too late.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Where is she? I am due to be on the balcony soon greeting the villagers!" the Sheriff huffed. He was in the Council Quarters addressing his sentry.

"I do not know." The guard said to him. "I saw her take leave this morning."

"And you did not ask where she was going?"

"No, sir. I assumed she told you."

"Well she didn't!" The Sheriff barked. Oh this was loathsome. He knew Lady Rhiannon had no wish to witness the execution, but still it would be one less thing to worry about if he knew where she was!

"What's going on?" Guy asked as he strode into the chamber.

"The execution is scheduled fifteen minutes from hence. Alas, my lady has disappeared from the grounds." The Sheriff huffed.

"Interesting. My Meridwyn is gone as well." Guy remarked.

"Oh, splendid." The Sheriff said sarcastically as he clapped his hands together once and rolled his eyes. "Remember what happened the last time they took off together?"

"How could I forget?" Guy said.

"For as much as I am pleased they are friends, Guy, you know that your lady plus mine can only spell one thing: t_r_o_u_b_l_e."

"Indeed." Guy chuckled.

"Well I cannot worry about it any longer. We have a duty to perform." The Sheriff said resignedly. He sighed. "Ready?"

"Let's go." Guy said. They walked together to the balcony.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"It is time, Hector." Joseph said, as he unchained his old friend. Two guards were there to escort him into the village square.

"Do something for me?" Hector implored him.

Joseph nodded.

"Tell my lady Brigid that I am sorry." Hector said.

"Indeed my friend. Godspeed." Joseph said solemnly as his eyes looked their last upon Hector.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The trumpet sounded. The Sheriff of Nottingham and Sir Guy of Gisborne stepped onto the balcony to greet the villagers. It was a dark gloomy day. A grey sky with heavy clouds was the backdrop. Ravens circled above the scaffold, as if they knew they would feast here today. A great tumult arose from the crowd. The Sheriff raised his hand and they quieted. He called down to the guard.

"Bring him out!"

A band of drummers beat upon their drums to announce the prisoner's arrival. The portcullis raised. Hector stood waiting with a guard flanked on either side of him. He looked out into the crowd – men and women dressed in black. Torches blazed all over the courtyard. The drums mixed in with murmurs from the crowd. He walked the walk, but he never felt his feet touch the ground.

Curses! The crowd had grown so much in density in the village, and then closer to the castle in the village square that Rhiannon was unable to make any headway. She was flanked by scores of people all around her. Every time she thought she had a chance of making it back to the castle in plenty of time, her attempts were thwarted. There was no where to go, no escape. The crowd was massive. She was forced to follow in their footsteps, there was no way she could break free. And now, she was standing among the crowd of villagers. The drums were sounding. She looked up. Her lover was atop the balcony with Guy of Gisborne. Both men dressed all in black leather studded in silver. Their hair waving in the breeze. They looked regal and dangerous, and it was like seeing them through the eyes of another, instead of her own. For now, she was caught up in the villager's world. And some did not take too kindly to the Sheriff.

She looked ahead. The noose swung in the breeze on the gallows. The executioner was a menacing looking man. He was tall, dressed in black leather with large garish silver studs all over the tunic that came to mid thigh and cinched with a wide belt. He wore a fitted black mask over his head. Rhiannon shuddered.

Then she saw him. A young, handsome man with blond hair. He did not look like a criminal. But alas, the Sheriff had said he was one of his former guards. The man looked noble enough to her. He was dressed in black breeches, shiny black boots, and a snow white tunic. He indeed looked rather dignified and handsome.

Hector was helped upon wooden steps that led up to the scaffold. He noticed a coffin lying there waiting at the right of the scaffold. He looked up. He saw the rope hanging there above him from the dark wooden frame that lay against the gunmetal sky. He looked upon the crowd. A sea of black. The drums stopped.

"Hector of Nettlestone." The crier announced. "Have you anything to say?"

The voices of the crowd began to erupt.

"Yes." Hector said. He addressed the crowd. He raised his hands to silence them, even though they were bound in front of him.

"I shall be brief." Hector announced to the crowd.

"Here it comes." The Sheriff said to Guy. "The golden boy's last words." The Sheriff rolled his eyes.

"I leave you with a quote from the Roman poet Ovid: Leniter ex merito quicquid patiare, ferendum est: Quae venit indigne poena dolenda venit." Hector shouted audibly, yet calmly.

"Whatever _**that**_ was he said." Guy commented. "My latin is poor."

The Sheriff sighed. "I'll tell you what he said: Whatever you endure deservedly, you must bear resignedly; the punishment that comes undeservedly, comes as a cause for grief."

"You know latin?" Guy asked, incredulous.

"I taught him some." Bishop of Hereford spoke. He stood on the other side of the Sheriff. A short, balding, white haired man. He wore an emerald green damask chasuble over his alb. It was trimmed in gold silk ribbon and ermine. A narrow taupe coloured stole hung around his neck and down to his knees. He was short with a round face, deep set blue eyes, and a face resembling an owl. For his nose looked like a beak, and his mouth was the tiniest that Guy had ever seen on a man. Every time he saw the Bishop he wanted to say "woo" just to see how the Bishop would react. One of these days he would, he smiled to himself.

"Ha!" The Sheriff snorted. "He is attempting to die a martyr!" He spat. The drums sounded again.

Hector was helped upon a wooden stool to stand upon. He looked once more upon the crowd. Torches burned against the backdrop of the dark grey sky. The crowd was a sea of black. His eyes found his lady standing there. She wore a black wedding gown, a black lace veil upon her head. She was in mourning. So was he. They would have to wait for an interval before they would meet again. He found her eyes within the sea of black and orange fire. His eyes looked his last upon this world and the hood was placed over his head. Then he felt the noose slide over his head and under his chin.

Rhiannon gasped as she saw the executioner place the hood over the man's head. She remembered the woman Brigid's stinging words in the home of Madam Oberon: _"I was supposed to be getting married too! Why don't you ask your lover why I'm not?"_Rhiannon closed her eyes trying to shut out the memory.

"To Christ I commend my soul." Hector whispered.

The Sheriff nodded to the executioner. The band of drummers stopped playing.

The executioner swiftly kicked the wooden stool from under Hector's feet. His body swung lifelessly from the gallows.

The canon thundered once, upon the battlements. Then an unearthly scream. She wondered if that was Brigid?

Rhiannon could hear the accusations again in her mind. _"The Sheriff has made me a widow, before I can even grant my lover one night in the marriage bed."_ She didn't know this man, Hector, yet she felt a tear forming. Even though she wished she didn't, she understood why Brigid dyed her wedding gown black. She even understood her words, even though she insulted Rhiannon's lover. For Rhiannon was engaged to be married as well. What if that were her man upon that scaffold condemned to die, with no recourse? No one to save him? What if that were her whose dreams had all just been shattered? In the blink of an eye the executioner altered Brigid's life forever. Even though Rhiannon did not know her, she couldn't drive that thought from her mind. But she knew she must try.

The crowd was dispersing. She finally found a break in it. She could finally get free. She ran towards the castle, but she would stay out on the grounds for awhile. She couldn't go inside. Not yet.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours later, the Sheriff was concerned. He still hadn't found Lady Rhiannon. The last he'd seen her was before they fell asleep. After she had given herself to him. He fell asleep content, but when he awoke she was already gone. Now it was nearing dusk. He had just returned to his den after searching for her throughout the castle. On the table was his decanter that was topped up by the servant. A new bottle of the special issue brandy had been brought from the cellar. He reached for it when the knock sounded on the door. Muttering curses under his breath, he strode toward it.

Guy and Lady Meridwyn were there. He looked upon them curiously.

"Where is my lady?" The Sheriff asked Lady Meridwyn. "I thought she was with you?"

"She was." Lady Meridwyn said.

The Sheriff gestured for them to enter. They followed him into the den and he closed the door.

"We were together this morning." Lady Meridwyn said. "But we accidentally became separated."

"When was the last time you saw her?" The Sheriff asked.

"About two hours before the execution. She was upset. I ran after her but lost her in the crowd."

"And why was my lady upset?" The Sheriff asked pointedly.

"I don't know if I should tell you." Meridwyn said quietly.

His left eyebrow shot north as he looked at her curiously. "Tell me." He said.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, but then again it would serve you to know what transpired." Meridwyn debated aloud.

"Tell me!" The Sheriff repeated with more urgency.

"Go on, my lady." Guy encouraged. "Tell him."

"She asked me to take her to Madam Oberon." Meridwyn blurted.

"The seamstress?" The Sheriff asked, astonished.

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked.

"To commission the lady to create for her a wedding gown." Meridwyn said.

The Sheriff's eyes widened. A wedding gown? If he wasn't so worried about her, he would laugh. He was suddenly relieved.

"I'm afraid your lady was the victim of cruel insults while we were inside Madam Oberon's home." Meridwyn began.

"Who insulted her?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Not her, my Lord. It was you she insulted."

"You confuse me, Lady Meridwyn." The Sheriff said. "You said – she. Who is 'she'? Did Madam Oberon upset my betrothed?" He demanded.

"No. It was Hector's betrothed, a young woman by the name of Brigid who caused your lady grief." Meridwyn stated. "For she was there to pick up her wedding gown and headdress." A beat. "It was dyed in black."

The Sheriff sighed. He walked over to the table in front of the fireplace. He needed a drink. He quickly poured himself a goblet of his favourite brandy, expertly without looking.

"Magnificent!" The Sheriff cursed as he took a long draught from the silver goblet. "She didn't want to witness the execution. Why do I have a very bad feeling that she got a perfect bird's eye view of that too?"

"She was shaken." Lady Meridwyn said.

"I must find her." The Sheriff declared as he set the goblet back down on the table.

"She can't be far, cousin." Guy said. "She will return."

"I must find her, cousin. I need to find her now! I must explain. Before she…never forgives me." He said as he grabbed his coat off the chair and flew through the door.


	37. Chapter 37

The Sheriff had tried all of the usual places he expected to find her. He immediately went to the gardens. He thought for sure he'd find her by the garden wall. There was no sign of her. Then he wandered through the mazes of hedges beyond the gardens. Caught up in circles, he walked for miles it seemed. Still nothing. He made his way back to the castle, retracing his steps visiting the usual places she favoured. Still, he could not find her. He wandered through the castle aimlessly after all of this confusion, lost in thought. Somehow he ended up walking along the stone floors of the corridor which led to the balcony. The same one he stood upon with Guy and some local dignitaries at midday.

He could only imagine the scene that transpired in Madam Oberon's home. Somehow this maiden Brigid, must have found out that Rhiannon is my bride, he thought. Hector never said he was engaged, but then again, why would he? And after whatever happened there, if she witnessed the hanging, the Sheriff knew she would be affected by it. Rhiannon was a strong woman, there was no question about that. But even though he was aware how hard she tried to maintain that part of her character, there were still some things that could penetrate that exterior. Alas, she was almost like the female version of himself. The difference was that she had more heart. She was confident and self reliant, but there was also a glimmer of vulnerability in there, if one paused long enough to see it.

It was growing very dark. The sky was still covered in a heavy layer of clouds. The air was dense. Rain would come soon. Torches still lit the castle walls surrounding the village square down below. As he took in the sight before him, shaken out of his thoughts, he saw a figure crouched on the scaffold far below from his vantage point on the balcony. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision in the dark. Was that…a woman?

Rhiannon.

He ran back to the corridor running down the length of it and flew down the staircase. He ran through the long halls of the main floor and then found the exit to the courtyard. His sentry eyed him curiously as he passed by but he ignored him.

He walked out into the center of the village square toward the steps of the scaffold. He looked up. Rhiannon was sitting on the floor of the scaffold, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her arms were hugging them and her head rested there upon her knees. He walked up the steps.

"My lady?" he said.

She looked up. "I meant to be back a long time ago. Yet strangely, I could not move." She said.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered.

"I saw it." Rhiannon said.

"I know." He said.

"I saw the hanging."

He said nothing. For he knew, that his duty was now to listen.

"I met the man's bride today." Rhiannon began. "Hours before his execution. It was horrible. Do you know what she said to me?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff shook his head. His eyes searched hers and his face softened. He could see she was upset. He expected to see she'd been crying. But it was obvious she had not.

"Well, first she spat in my face. That was special." Rhiannon said as she stood up and smoothed her skirts. "She called you a murderer. Then she told me that you made her a widow, before she could offer her man just one night in the marriage bed!"

"Rhiannon…" He said.

"And so I attempted to return long before the hanging. But alas, who knew? Who knew I'd get tangled up in utter pandemonium, unable to break free?" Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff sighed and attempted to speak. "My lady." He slowly walked toward her.

"And then I saw you and Sir Guy. And I saw him! I saw the whole scene and do you know what?" She asked him, her voice raised a decibel or two.

"No." He replied after he drew in a heavy sigh.

"It was like I was looking at everything – him, the people crowded around me, my surroundings, and yes – even you, through _**her**_ eyes!" Rhiannon shrieked.

"Lady Rhiannon." The Sheriff said.

"From down here, mingled in amongst the crowd, you almost appeared menacing." Rhiannon said.

"My lady…" He tried again.

"And I felt it – when he hung. I imagined how I would feel if I were his lady. Her name is Brigid." Rhiannon said. She was talking so fast he feared she would run out of breath. "If that were you up there, condemned, and nobody could save you. Not even my undying love for you could save you…" Rhiannon paused. She was breathing too rapidly. She needed to slow down.

"Wait, my lady. Before you contin…" He was cut off.

"And I almost felt my heart was torn from my bosom the moment he died. Because I put myself in Lady Brigid's position. I imagined the man hanging there was you!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "It could've been _**us**_ this happened to!"

"My lady, if you would just permit me to…"

"And do you know what I found?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff opened his mouth to speak but failed to form the words quickly enough.

"That she is not that mad after all, for dying her wedding gown black! Because if that were _**you**_ hanging there like a ragdoll, I'd want to wear my morbid black wedding gown…every day of my wretched miserable life after that!" Rhiannon shrieked.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff shouted. She was in danger of reaching the boundary of madness!

"I wanted to hate you then. Isn't that ludicrous? But I looked up at you. You looked cold…almost cruel. And I wanted to Hate You!" She screamed.

The Sheriff walked toward her and gently placed his hands upon her shoulders. "Shh…it's alright my…"

"I so wanted to hate you for what you had done to her." Rhiannon hissed. "But I couldn't. I couldn't and then something even crazier than that happened." Rhiannon sighed.

He looked at her. He didn't speak because it did appear she was calming…somewhat.

"I felt guilty." Rhiannon said quietly.

"What?" The Sheriff asked. Trying to make sense of her was boggling his mind.

"I felt guilty because I couldn't hate you for what you had done to Brigid!" She shouted.

"Oh, my angel…" He sighed.

"You and that foul, loathsome executioner, altered her life and her dreams…forever!" Rhiannon exclaimed. A tear spilled onto her cheek. He desperately wanted to wipe it away for her, but he hesitated until he knew what she was trying to say. Was it now too late?

The Sheriff shook his head. "You do not understand…" He said.

"And that's how I ended up here. I felt guilty because I wanted to despise you. But I couldn't. So tell me…why is it do you think, that would glue me to this platform? I should not have given the matter any thought and come straight to you." Rhiannon mused. "But I couldn't."

"I don't understand." The Sheriff said. It was difficult to conceal his frustration. She was talking in circles.

She looked up into his eyes.

"I couldn't, because I needed to work this out in my mind. I couldn't face you with doubt in my heart. I needed to return to you…pure."

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and shook his head in confusion. Had she been drinking again? It was difficult to make sense of her words.

"My lady…what are you trying to say?" He asked gently.

"To put it simply – I cannot look you in the eye and lie to you. And if I returned to you before I worked this out myself, then that would be like I was lying to you." She said.

The Sheriff was stunned. So all of this time that she had been gone, it was because she couldn't lie? To him? He was so moved by those words, for the first time, he knew not how to react. He couldn't move, or even speak. He couldn't even coax his facial muscles into a smile. He was momentarily frozen in place.

"It was all so real to me." Rhiannon said, her eyes downcast. "I met her, albeit briefly. It was hostile but it was very apparent – her love for him. Then I saw him. And I don't know why but…I felt her pain."

He finally found his voice. "My lady Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered as he reached over and lifted her chin with his hand. She lifted her eyes to meet his.

"It could've been us." She whispered.

The Sheriff held her close to him and stroked her hair. "I am sorry, my lady, that you were subjected to such cruelty and were forced to witness the hanging." He said. "It shouldn't have happened."

"No." She said. "If I am to be your wife, than I must accept all that comes with it, even if it includes your enemies." She pulled away to look at him.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I'm sorry I worried you, but I hope you understand why I couldn't return to you right away. I was so…confused." Rhiannon whispered.

"Come, my lady." The Sheriff said. "This is no place for my angel to be."

She smiled and nodded. He offered her his arm and she took it, then he helped her down the steps. They walked together back to the castle. The rain began just before they got to the entrance.

Later, when Rhiannon was fast asleep, the Sheriff was in the den outside of his private chambers. Unlike Rhiannon, he suffered from a bout of insomnia. His mind was a tangled up web of thoughts. His child. Was the Duke getting closer to finding his child? The Fallen Knight. What sort of scheming was he up to? Was he moving back in the direction of Nottingham? Were any more maidens missing? The wedding. Lady Rhiannon. The execution. Thrusting the dagger into Hestia's chest. He took a generous gulp of the tincture of rapture in an attempt to quiet his thoughts.

He stared into the fire. It mesmerized him. The flames drew his eyes in as they licked and sparked. Soon he was warmed and feeling a little more relaxed.

But when the bell pealed in the den, he realized he wasn't as relaxed as he thought he was. Because he was so startled he spilled some of the brandy from the goblet that shook in his hand when he jumped off of his seat.

Mortianna was calling for him. He topped up the goblet with more brandy from the decanter and walked toward the heavy oak door that led down the depths of the stone circular stairs to Mortianna's lair.

"You called, Madam?" The Sheriff smiled as he greeted her.

"Come, my child. The stars have aligned. I must bade you warning." Mortianna said as she extended her hand out toward him gesturing for him to come inside.

"What?" the Sheriff said. "God's nightgown, woman! What more could there possibly be to warn me about?" The Sheriff exclaimed. He suddenly wished he ignored her summons.

"Something vexes thee?" She asked.

"It's been a very long day." The Sheriff sighed as he paused to sip the brandy from his goblet.

"The hanging." She said.

"Yes." He huffed.

"You should've come to me first. I could have spared you from all of the nonsense your lady endured today." Mortianna stated nonchalantly as she walked over to the fire to stir the brew in her cauldron.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "How do you know about that?" He asked.

"The runes and the blood do not lie." She said.

"You knew?" The Sheriff repeated. He was stunned.

"Yes. And I could have spared you all of this." She said as she quickly stirred the mixture in the cauldron.

"Well, it's too late, but enlighten me, Madam. Just how could you have prevented it?" The Sheriff asked, unconvinced.

"Five days ago I was made a Druidic Prophet." Mortianna announced as she searched around the apothecary for the items she needed.

"Prophet's can only be men!" The Sheriff spat.

"Historically, yes." Mortianna said as she paused what she was doing to face him. " But there is one other Druidess I am told. She is Bodhmall of Sliabh Bladhma. Though, I'm not sure if she is a prophet."

The Sheriff sighed. "We could've killed him by another means." He said.

"Indeed. It could've been done privately and quietly and…" She was cut off.

"You could've told me where the leperous former prisoner of mine is." The Sheriff spat. "Curses, Mortianna! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You did not ask." She said.

The Sheriff released an audible sigh and walked over to one of the chairs at the small table and took a seat. He took a gulp of the brandy. Mortianna spoke of the Prophet's role in Druidic ritual. It was the custom for animals to be used in sacrifice. The Druidic Prophet was able to predict the future, often by observing flights and calls of birds, and by observing the sacrifice of holy animals. In matters of extreme importance a human victim could be prepared for sacrifice. A dagger was plunged into the victim's chest, and by observing the way in which the person's limbs convulse, how he falls to the floor, and the way in which the blood flows, the Druidic Prophet is able to predict the future. If the Sheriff had known this about Mortianna, Hector could've been used in sacrifice. He shook his head. Mortianna was right. There was something to be said for breaking the rules. For that manner of execution would have been a better choice. Less fuss, no politics, it would've been carried out quickly, and he would've obtained some of the answers he was looking for. Curses!

Mortianna glided to the table. Her black and silver robes rustled along the stone floor. A rat scurried along the floor of her apothecary. She was oblivious. She brought a shiny copper platter, the bone dice runes, and a large vial of snake blood with her.

"It is time for portents." She said.

Mortianna put the platter on the table. She opened the vial. The Sheriff watched her curiously. "I've grown to prefer this method." She commented. "It's cleaner than slicing at the eggs." The blood spilled onto the platter. Then she took the bone dice and cast the runes onto the platter. She picked it up and swirled them, then stopped to study them.

"What do you see?" The Sheriff asked her.

"I see someone who wants you dead."

"Well I know, Mortianna!" The Sheriff said. "But he is long gone, until he gets bored and comes back for more adventure."

"No." Mortianna said. "It is not the man you once held in your dungeon I am seeing."

"Well it could be anybody." The Sheriff remarked.

Mortianna looked up at him. The Sheriff returned a sheepish grin. She returned her gaze to the runes.

"The past shall meet the future." Mortianna continued.

The Sheriff shook his head. "This tells me nothing!" The Sheriff barked. "Always incessant riddles with you!"

"You must be vigilant." Mortianna advised, unfazed by his outburst.

"When?" The Sheriff demanded. "Now?"

"A visitor shall come from afar. Someone you once wronged."

The Sheriff sighed. "As I said, that could be anybody."

"Beware of the cross." Mortianna said.

"Which one?" The Sheriff chortled. "There's crosses carved all over the damned castle!" He rolled his eyes. Had the woman gone daft?

"Upon the person who bears you ill will. You will know it to be so if thine eyes should look upon it." Mortianna warned. "It gleams of red stones, yet can yield red liquid."

"You are certain?" The Sheriff asked.

"Indeed. The runes and the blood do not lie."

"It's not this woman my former jailer was engaged to?" The Sheriff prodded her.

"No." Mortianna said. "The past shall meet the future."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"That is perfect!" Well done, Richard!" Duke Farnsworth exclaimed as he stood with Richard and Nigel, examining both of the completed drawings.

It was well after dusk. The men were huddled near the fire. Richard massaged his neck as he gave the two drawings to the Duke. He had spent the entire day, and part of the night before working on them. He lost count of how many attempts it took before Duke Farnsworth declared the likenesses were exact.

"Let me see those!" Nigel said as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. The Duke handed the drawings to him.

"So…this is them?" He asked the Duke.

"Indeed." The Duke said. "It's remarkable! I'm sure my Lord Sheriff is going to be finding many other uses for our Master Richard, now."

Richard smiled. He paused to take a drink of water from his flask.

"Forgive me, mate." Nigel said to Richard. "I just never knew you were an artist." He gave the drawings back to the Duke. The Duke took them and went to sit down to complete his letter.

"I'm a Knight. The skill has no use to me as one in the Sheriff's militia." Richard shrugged.

"You should be proud." The Duke called as he finally finished his letter to the Sheriff. He needed to see the end result before he put his stamp of approval on them in the letter. "This will prove invaluable indeed. My Lord Sheriff is going to be very pleased." He smiled.

"I hope so." Richard said.

The men were startled and turned when they heard a rustling noise at the edge of the clearing where they were gathered. A tall, gangly lad with cropped, curly, mousy brown hair was approaching them. He led his horse alongside him by the reins.

"Good evening." Nigel greeted him. He turned to the Duke. "Duke, this is our messenger."

The Duke was just finishing sealing the three documents together. He picked up the scroll along with a small sack, stood up and came toward the others.

"These documents are of great importance." The Duke said to the lad. "It must not fall into anyone else's hands but those of my Lord Sheriff of Nottingham." He instructed.

"Indeed, my Lord." The young lad said.

"But can I trust you?" Duke Farnsworth wondered.

"I had him checked out by the county's local Sheriff." Nigel reassured. "Turns out the man's castle is just beyond that giant hill over there!" He said as he pointed west.

The Duke was surprised. "Good thinking, Nigel." He said. "This is perhaps the most important message I shall ever send to the Sheriff."

"You have my word, that none other but he shall even touch the scroll." The messenger said.

"Good." The Duke replied. He held a small chocolate brown suede leather sack tied with a drawstring in one hand, the scroll in the other. He handed the small sack of coins, and the scroll to the messenger.

The messenger took them, and shook the Duke's hand in agreement of his contract, then departed on his way toward Nottingham.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

"When may we stop running?" Isabelle asked her husband.

She was seated on a high backed chair, holding the infant in the empty cabin they had found deep in the woods, far in the north of the country.

"I think we're good for now, my dear." Robert said as he put some logs on the fire.

It was early Friday morning. Even though it was the dead of summer, there was a chill in the morning air.

"I still can't believe we have the Sheriff's baby." Isabelle commented. "Who would want…"

"To get near him?" Robert interrupted. He shook his head. "I can't imagine what manner of lady would wish to play with the Sheriff of Nottingham's codpiece!" He retorted.

"I feel like I'm doing the right thing, yet the wrong thing all at the same time." Isabelle remarked.

"We're doing the right thing." Robert said. "We have no other choice."

"True." Isabelle conceded as she began to feed the infant. "If they find us, we'll lose the baby." She sighed.

"You shall lose more than that." Robert said as he arranged the logs on the fire with a poker. It was time for the truth.

Isabelle narrowed her blue eyes. "I don't understand." She said. "What do you mean?"

"There's some things I've never told you." He sighed as he stood up and turned around to face her.

Isabelle searched his eyes with hers, demanding explanation.

Robert came toward her. "I should have spoken long before now, but…" His words trailed off. He reached out to gently caress his child's shiny, dark curls - the same hair as the Sheriff of Nottingham. He sighed.

"But what?" She coaxed.

"You've heard me speak of my sister?" Robert began.

"Yes, of course, my love. One day I hope to meet her. But…what does she have to do with this?"

Robert sighed. He looked down to the floor. "She thinks I am dead." He stated.

"What?" Isabelle exclaimed. "That cannot be!" She shook her head in disbelief.

Robert looked up to face the weight of her stare.

"What do you mean she thinks you are dead?" Isabelle demanded.

"Because… I was a wanted man. And I probably still am, aside from the matter of the infant." He announced.

Isabelle picked up the infant and arose from her seat. She held the baby next to her and began to burp the child as she paced about the room.

"You were wanted?" She asked. "_**You?**_" She snorted. "Gentle Robert, what could _**you**_ be wanted for?" Isabelle asked, still stunned by his admission.

"I was one in Robin of Locksley's band of merry men. Though… the Sheriff of Nottingham would disagree with that choice of adjective. To him, we are outlaws." He confessed.

Isabelle subconsciously inched closer to the fireplace. For she felt a sudden chill pass through to her bones.

"I don't understand…" She struggled to say.

"You shall." He said with a sigh.

Isabelle took a moment to put the child down in the cradle, then came back to finish the discussion with her husband.

Robert began to tell her the story of how he joined the Crusades. He spoke of how he ended up held captive in a Saracen prison where he first met Robin of Locksley and Azeem the moor, along with Robin's friend Peter Dubois. He spoke of the day they escaped the prison and made their way back to England four months after that, in 1194. He went on to tell her about them parting ways, his meeting Little John and the rest of the men, and then meeting up again, days later, with Robin, Azeem, and Robin's servant, Duncan, when John challenged Robin to a quarterstaff duel.

Isabelle was slowly feeling the blood drain from her the more her handsome husband spoke. His blue green eyes shifted nervously as he continued the story.

"And the day that Robin came flying into camp upon the Sheriff's horse, after what he had done to the Sheriff, I knew I was doomed." Robert said.

"Because you were associated with him, even though you mostly kept to yourself." Isabelle surmised. She was beginning to feel sick.

"Yes. And that was the day I decided it would better for my sister if she thought I was dead." Robert explained. "She thinks I died almost two years ago."

Isabelle shook her head incredulously. "Wait… you said this happened _** three **_ years ago? When - you were involved with Robin."

"Yes, my love. It did. You know that? Everyone in the kingdom knew about Locksley's murder?" He said.

"But I don't understand?" She said. "Your sister thinks you've been dead two years. So, if you decided _**then**_ to be dead to her, why does she think you've been dead only two years?" Isabelle asked. She felt like she was in a bizarre dream. For asking that question sounded completely ridiculous to her as she uttered the words.

"I couldn't do it right away." Robert admitted. "First of all, I was too busy about lengthening the distance between me and the Sheriff." He began. "And then, when I had time to think on it, I hesitated."

Isabelle sat back down and put her head in her hands.

"Robert, you're a very intelligent man, but right now, you're not making sense." She pleaded.

"I know it sounds strange, but it took me a year to send her the letter." Robert stated. "It seemed so final, even though I knew it had to be done."

Isabelle slowly raised her head. "And how did you say you…died?" She asked. It was difficult to speak of it, even though it was a lie.

"She knew I went to fight in the Holy Land." He said. "So in September 1195 she received word that while I was en route to England from Jerusalem, that my ship capsized during a storm."

Isabelle sighed. "And… the handwriting on the message?" She asked.

"I commissioned a stranger to pen the scroll for me. I told him Robert was a friend of mine, and that I was illiterate." Robert replied quietly.

Isabelle closed her eyes a moment and shook her head. "You've already told me how close you were to your siblings." She began. "That was a cruel thing to do to her, after everything else she endured."

"No, my dearest." He countered. "In fact, I was being kind."

"How was _**that**_ kind?" Isabelle asked.

"I am guilty by association with Robin of Locksley. I feared she may be in danger just because she is related to me."

"So you thought this would be better for her?" Isabelle concluded.

"Indeed." Robert said.

"But you didn't do anything wrong?" Isabelle exclaimed.

"I said I mostly kept to myself." Robert began. "But I did engage in treacherous acts."

"Like what?" Isabelle asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"Stealing for the most part…" His words trailed off.

"Is that all?" She pried.

"No." He said. "The day that Locksley was murdered, we had stolen into the village square in disguise. We had a plan of attack to save our men who were scheduled to hang that day. We were also going in to rescue Lady Marian."

"And?..."

"The plan was to kill the Sheriff of Nottingham. That was Robin's intention. We had had enough." Robert said.

"But the plan went awry." Isabelle guessed accurately with a sigh.

"Yes. One of our men was spotted in the crowd. He ended up severely injured in a fire." Robert began. "After Robin came to his aid, he later found his way into the castle with Azeem, but it was he who met his end…not the Sheriff."

Isabelle fidgeted in her seat and wrung her hands on her skirts. Her blue eyes moistened as her fears mounted.

"What happened after that? Was any of the men captured?" Isabelle asked.

"Some. But for the most part, all of the key players in Robin's gang managed to escape capture unscathed. We scattered after that, and ran for our lives. It was foolish to stick together." Robert said.

Isabelle took a deep breath. "So…we are wanted because we have the Sheriff's baby. And you are wanted in connection to Robin of Locksley."

"Yes." Robert replied.

"Oh, Robert!" Isabelle cried. She could no longer conceal the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. "We are doomed!" She exclaimed.

"It is I who am doomed." He said. He walked closer to her and knelt in front of her. He put both of his hands upon her knees and looked up at her.

"Forgive me, my love. I should have confessed years ago. I thought it was all behind me, until the two guards came knocking on our door from Nottingham." Robert said.

Isabelle dried her tears and looked into his large, blue green eyes. "You are not an outlaw, Robert! I don't care what the Sheriff of Nottingham says. It grieves me that you kept this from me all this time, but we shall face whatever comes together." Isabelle said.

Robert attempted to smile, but it was difficult.

"Are you certain we are safe here?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes, my lady." He said.

"Oh, Robert!" Isabelle exclaimed. "I'm frightened!" She leaned forward and put her head on his shoulder. She began to sob.

Robert placed his strong arms around her. "Hush, my love. It will be alright." Robert soothed. He hated that he had to disappoint and grieve his beloved. But he could no longer shoulder the burden alone. He finally felt a small measure of relief for confessing the truth to Isabelle.

Isabelle had calmed down somewhat. "Is that everything?" Isabelle asked, her cheek still resting against his shoulder.

He felt her breath upon his neck. He drew in a heavy sigh.

"No. There's one more thing you need to know." Robert said.

Isabelle pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"Oh, Isabelle…" He shook his head slowly.

"What is it?" Isabelle implored him.

"My name is Robert Wordsworth. It is _**not**_ Whitfield." He stated quietly.


	38. Chapter 38

When Rhiannon awoke early Friday morning, she instinctively reached out to her man. She was alarmed when she found he wasn't lying beside her. She sat up.

The Sheriff was seated in a chair near to the window. He smiled when her misty green eyes found his.

"It is very early, my love. Did you even sleep?" She asked him.

He arose from the chair and came toward her, then seated himself beside her on the bed.

"No much." He admitted.

"Something troubles you, my Lord?" Rhiannon asked as she softly caressed his cheek and his soft beard.

He took her hand from his face and kissed it softly. Where to begin? He thought facetiously.

"There's always something for me to think upon, my lady. Far too many tedious and or troublesome matters." The Sheriff said.

"Yes." She said quietly.

"And there is one matter that I'm thinking about right now which is not so tedious or troublesome." He hinted with a smile.

"Oh?" Rhiannon asked. "What is that, my love?"

"We have not set a date for our wedding." The Sheriff reminded her.

Rhiannon smiled. For lately, she had been eager to make concrete plans for her wedding to the Sheriff. Until – she ran into Lady Brigid at Madam Oberon's home the day before.

"What date do you have in mind?" Rhiannon asked.

"What about a fortnight from now?" The Sheriff asked.

Rhiannon grabbed one of the many silk covered soft down pillows from the surplus and hugged it to her as she pondered the idea.

"No." She said. "That won't be enough time for my gown to be ready." Rhiannon mused.

"Okay. What about September twelfth?" The Sheriff suggested.

"No." Rhiannon replied, shaking her head. "Too close to the thirteenth – an unlucky number."

The Sheriff raised his left eyebrow. Was she parrying?

"Rhiannon." He admonished. "We are _**not**_ waiting a year in case you get the idea to throw that at me…" He was cut off. He was going to add 'again'.

"September twenty sixth." Rhiannon interrupted. "That will give me plenty of time to plan, and it is three days before Michaelmas."

The Sheriff smiled. "Perfect, my angel." The Sheriff said as he embraced her. "You shall be my Lady Nottingham, officially on September twenty sixth."

Rhiannon pulled away from him gently and looked up into his amber eyes.

"We're getting married in the same month we met." She smiled.

"I know." The Sheriff said. "It is, and it shall be….perfect."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

August 15th, London…

The woman pushed her dark auburn ringlets from her face as she checked a last time to ensure she'd packed everything for her journey. Her journey home. There it was. The one item that was the most crucial to bring with her. She held it in her hands. The light shone through the window and reflected from the stones. The brilliance assaulted her eyes. She didn't know why she felt the need to take it so many years ago, when the opportunity presented itself. She just had a feeling that one day, it would serve a purpose. Her former lover had a purpose for it, but alas, the plan failed.

She sighed. She thought of her handsome yeoman, his strong arms enfolding her. His sandy coloured hair, and his blue eyes. She thought him invincible at the time. For how could a man who was capable of aiming an arrow and shooting it perfectly on target at three hundred yards meet such a tragic end? Three years had passed and she still found it difficult to believe. But she knew it to be real. She witnessed it. There would be no other man for her, she had resigned herself to that. And now, she was finally ready to carry out a plan she'd been rehearsing in her mind in various methods. It was time for revenge. She'd never killed anyone before. The man who was the intended target was powerful, cunning, and ultimately ruthless. It would definitely be a difficult task. She was willing to take whatever steps necessary to see her plan come to fruition, however. Even if she died trying. For she was already dead anyway. The day her lover was murdered, was the day that she died too. The time that had passed since, imposed a nightmare upon her. Every day since, as she awoke in the morning and opened her eyes, she wanted to scream the words: "Why is everything in colour?" For in her mind, the world should have been painted in shades of grey.

She put the item deep within the folds of her skirt pocket. Looking at it was causing her alarm. For she remembered the day it was given to her. It was _**him**_ who gave it to her. Very slowly, a satisfied grin spread across her face. There was going to be some poetic justice served.

She closed her bag. She heard a noise outside of the door. It was one of her ladies in waiting.

"The guard has informed me that your horse is ready, my lady."

"Thank you." She said. "I have left a note for my mother. It is there on the table." She pointed to it. "Give it to her after I'm gone."

"Of course." The servant woman replied.

"I will return, though I am not certain when. I have some important business I need to attend to in Nottingham." She smiled.

"Yes, my lady."

She picked up her bag and headed down the stairs. Soon she was standing outside. Her horse was waiting for her not far from the gates.

She took a breath. She went to the horse and smoothed the mane on the mare, then caressed its' soft neck.

"We're going home, old friend." She said. "It is time."

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The following Wednesday after dusk, the young woman Lady Brigid was alone, walking along the road which led to the outskirts of Nottingham toward the direction of Sherwood Forest. She knew it to be risky, for it was fraught with danger. Especially since she had no one to accompany her, and no horse to make a hasty escape if needs be. Yet, for once, her own safety was of no concern to her.

She thought of her Hector. Not only did she lose him, she lost her dreams. Her mother had made a grave mistake last night by telling Lady Brigid she understood her daughter's pain because of the death of Brigid's father five years prior. Brigid was overcome with anger though she said nothing. Her mother would never understand! For her mother and father were granted fifteen years of history together, including children. For Brigid was aware that not only had she lost the man who would be her husband, she had lost her future children as well. Yet now, she couldn't even make herself hate the Sheriff of Nottingham anymore. She couldn't summon any feeling at this moment in time.

She was apathetic. Inside she was lost. For she was so bereft for her lover she was numb. She couldn't see the good in anything. She felt dead. She felt nothing, which is why she didn't see the man approaching up ahead in the distance on a dark horse, for alas, her eyes were downcast.

Finally, as she meandered slowly down the path, her mind began to wander going over the bittersweet memories. She craved quiet every day. For when no one was near her, she could immerse herself into the memories, so that she could somehow keep him alive. She hated to be around anybody lately, which wasn't like her. She was angry most of the time, when she wasn't completely numb.

She had no destination in mind. She just kept on walking, not caring that it was becoming increasingly dark. She was thinking of the day that Hector proposed to her when she became annoyed by the sounds of a horse's hooves on the dirt road and realized she was no longer alone. That was the last thought she had in her mind before the last sight her blue eyes beheld.

She looked up. A silhouette of a large, dark and sinister hooded figure atop a black horse, juxtaposed against the moonlit, starry sky, swooping down off of the horse and fast approaching her, was the very last thing that Lady Brigid of Nottingham was later able to remember. She awoke in a dark foreign, cold place. Suddenly, she could feel something then that she hadn't felt for herself in a very long while….fear.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday afternoon on August twenty first, the Sheriff was meeting again with his staff in the Council Quarters. Once again, there was news of the inept Blacksmith. The same knight who had been reporting to the Sheriff these last few weeks on the shortcomings of the Blacksmith in the Sheriff's employ, presented a new concern at the meeting this day.

"My Lord, if I may – I suggest you consider hiring a new Blacksmith." The knight said.

"What's he done now?" The Sheriff huffed.

"Well, now the poleyns that attach to the greaves and the chausses are so large that several of the men are having difficulty with their agility."

"Curses!" The Sheriff barked. He looked to the Scribe.

"Scribe!"

"Yes, my Lord?" The Scribe replied, looking up from his writing tablet as he had been taking notes for the meeting.

"Remind me…" The Sheriff began. "How much am I paying this twit every month?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Five crowns my Lord." The Scribe replied.

"Reduce it to three!!" The Sheriff spat. He looked around the table. "All of you ask around the village. Find me a _**real**_ Blacksmith for the love of Zeus!"

They all mumbled agreement. Suddenly the page appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat to make his presence known to the Sheriff.

"What is it?" The Sheriff asked.

"A woman is here to see you, sir. She says it is important." The page said.

"Huh!" The Sheriff snorted. "I highly doubt it." He sighed. "Send her in."

He dismissed everyone from the room except his Lieutenant and his Scribe.

A guard ushered in an attractive middle aged woman with dark hair and blue eyes. She smiled at the men when she was summoned to come forward.

"My lady." The Sheriff said upon greeting her.

"Good day, my Lord. I come to you about a matter of importance concerning my daughter. I request your assistance." She said.

"How can I help you, my lady?" The Sheriff asked.

"I am Lady Ostara Brimley. I am Lady Brigid's mother. I fear she is in grave danger." The woman said.

The Sheriff and Guy were mirror images of each other's sudden piqued curiosity. For a shadow seemed to cross both of their faces.

"My daughter has been missing since yesterday morning." Lady Ostara announced gravely.

"Can you describe your daughter to us, Madam?" The Sheriff asked her gently.

"She is of average height and a slender frame. She has long golden hair, and eyes of blue." She paused. "She has been rather melancholy these last seven days." Lady Ostara remarked quietly.

"Why is that?" The Sheriff asked. Where had he heard that name before?

"Well…." Lady Ostara started to speak, but her words became distant and faded.

"Continue, my lady." The Sheriff encouraged her.

"She was betrothed to Hector of Nettlestone." She announced.

The Sheriff suddenly remembered.

"What was she wearing?" Guy asked her.

"Probably a black gown." The woman replied.

"You do not know?" The Sheriff asked, puzzled.

"No. Because you see, the last time I saw her was when she bid me good night the night before."

"But, you said she's been missing since yesterday?" The Sheriff pointed out.

"I am not certain when she disappeared. Alas, it was yesterday morning when I noticed her absence." Lady Ostara reported.

The Sheriff sighed.

"Are you missing any of your horses?" He asked.

"No, my Lord. If she left voluntarily, she is on foot. All of my horses are accounted for."

The Sheriff and Guy were quiet for a few moments. The Scribe was busy writing.

"She is not herself." Lady Ostara continued. "She has difficulty maintaining her sensibilities of late. I fear it places her in more danger than she already is."

"Yes. I can understand your concern." The Sheriff said. For, he was worried about his infant with each passing day. "I will designate a team to begin a search for her." He reassured her.

"Thank you, my Lord." She said.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On Friday, Guy and his patrols began the task of scouring every square inch of Nottingham and the immediate surrounding areas in search of the missing maid of Nottingham.

On Saturday morning the Sheriff was interrupted just as he was beginning to seduce his Lady Rhiannon. He was kissing her shortly after she awoke that misty rainy morning, in her state of afterglow from the night before with her dark prince.

"Must you answer the door?" She murmured as she kissed his lips, then broke free, slowly making her way down his smooth chest, his rippled abdomen, and further down to the part of him where his love began for her.

He would hate himself for his answer. For he lost interest in making love to her after he answered the knock on the door outside of the den.

"I must." He said. "It may be important. Just… stay like that." He instructed. "We shall continue."

Lady Rhiannon smiled. "You go ahead, my love." She said. "I'm going to take a bath. I have a delightful new soap that Mortianna gave to me. She made it herself using wood ash, sheep tallow, and oil of lavender."

The Sheriff smiled. "I will return, my lady." He closed the door between the private chambers and the den outside of it. He walked toward the door that led out from the den. The Scribe was there.

"An urgent message for you, my Lord. It is from Duke Farnsworth." The Scribe announced as he motioned for the messenger to come closer. The messenger came forward and passed a rather thick scroll sealed in wax to the Sheriff.

"I was implored to give this only to the Sheriff of Nottingham, for the matter is urgent. Are you he, sir?" The messenger asked.

"I am." The Sheriff replied.

The Sheriff took it, waved his dismissal, and asked the Scribe to remain there while he read it. He quickly pried the wax from it and almost tore it open. There were three pages of documents. He chose to look at the cover page first.

"_Thursday, 14__th__ August, 1197 Anno Domini_

_My Lord Sheriff;_

_Your men are now divided in two groups. Richard created maps and we follow separate paths in pursuit. The result of that proved invaluable to our mission. Alas, enclosed you will find here two drawings, which were penned by your talented Officer, Master Richard. I believe you shall find them useful. I wonder if you could commission a local artist to copy them for distribution throughout the country?_

_Richard's drawings are accurate. I saw them with mine own eyes and described them to your Officer. You are looking at the man and his lady who have your child._

_I trust you will use these documents wisely, as always, my Lord._

_Sincerely,_

_Duke C. Farnsworth"_

The Sheriff paused to look at the drawings. He studied them a few moments then looked up.

"Scribe…" He said quietly.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Write this down. For I want it duly noted that the wages of the Duke and Officer Richard shall be raised by five crowns each month commencing now." The Sheriff directed.

The Scribe was surprised. "Yes, my Lord."

"Ask the page to go into the village and find me a talented artist." The Sheriff said.

"Sire?" The Scribe asked, confused.

"Someone who can draw faces!" The Sheriff replied angrily as he held up the drawings to show to the Scribe.

"Yes, my Lord."

"After you send the page on the errand, meet me in my office in ten minutes. I need you to take dictation for a new proclamation." The Sheriff said. "You haven't much time, so go!"

"As you wish, my Lord." The Scribe replied before he scurried down the dark stone corridors at his master's command.

When he went into the private chambers, Rhiannon wasn't there. She was in the bath chamber that was separated by another door from the bed chamber. It was just as well. He would see her after the meeting with the Scribe. He hastily threw on his voluminous, black silk robe that was trimmed in fur, and headed back out and to the office.

Later, in his office, he began to dictate to his Scribe.

"Proclamation…" The Sheriff recited. "This man and his wife, charged with kidnapping. Wanted….alive, for the sum of…" The Sheriff paused. "Hmm….make it ten thousand gold pieces." He instructed the Scribe.

"Yes, my Lord." The Scribe said as he wrote it down quickly.

"And…you know the rest." The Sheriff reminded him.

"Indeed, my Lord." The Scribe replied.

The Proclamation would be written up in mass quantities later that day. Eventually, when the work of the artist he was seeking was completed, messengers would be sent to distribute the notices from Nottingham throughout the realm.

Not long after, when he was back in his private chambers, he entered into the bath chamber. The smell of lavender permeated the air. Lady Rhiannon was in the tub, wearing a white bath shirt in the linen lined bath tub. The water made the garment cling to her skin, accentuating her curves and her beauty even more. He advanced slowly toward her.

"My lady…" He smiled.

"Mmm… this feels like heaven." Rhiannon murmured.

"Interesting - this...lavender soap." The Sheriff mused.

"Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said. "Mortianna created it herself. She's been working on the proper ratios of ingredients for a long time, evidently."

"It will be useful for many things." The Sheriff said.

"Such as?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Clothing? And perhaps, we could use it later on."

"For what?" Rhiannon asked him.

"For bathing an infant." The Sheriff smiled.

Rhiannon stared at him a moment before she began. "I hope that won't be too soon, but alas, it will be when it will be." Rhiannon remarked absently as she created creamy lather with the pleasantly fragranced soap in her hands.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff said.

"Yes, my Lord?" She looked up.

"Would you turn your back on a child in need if you weren't prepared for it?" He suddenly blurted.

"Well… no, my Lord." She replied, puzzled.

"Good." The Sheriff said, as he slowly turned away from her and left the chamber, leaving Rhiannon in a state of confusion.


	39. Chapter 39

Later, Rhiannon was urging the Sheriff's black mare down an old familiar path. She never asked permission. She needed to do something and she didn't wish to go to the bother of begging, and then, ultimately arguing with him. It wasn't the first time she chose to 'borrow' one of his horses.

The day was gloomy and warm, the air thick with the portents of impending rain. She was glad she didn't need to venture too far outside of the village. She planned to be brief.

The familiar grey stone tenth century estate appeared finally, up ahead and to the left. As she secured the horse twenty yards away from the front door, she suddenly realized that the last time she stepped out of that door, her life would change forever.

She extracted a key and proceeded to unlock the door. Once inside, she immediately heard footsteps fast approaching.

"My lady! You've returned! Have you finally recovered?" Rebeccah said as she came toward Rhiannon to greet her.

"Lady Rebeccah. How fare thee? What news?" Rhiannon asked.

"I am well, my lady." Rebeccah smiled. Rebeccah had an infectious smile. She was medium height, slender, and much older than Rhiannon. Still, she was fairly attractive. She had shiny dark hair, brown eyes, and a long pointy nose. She continued. "Are you coming back now that you've recovered?" She asked.

"I just wanted to stop by and check on matters of the household." Rhiannon cleared her throat. "I need to discuss some matters with you, Rebeccah." Rhiannon said. "I am not coming back. I am going to be married."

"To the Sheriff?" Rebeccah blurted. She was unable to conceal her surprise.

"Yes, to the Sheriff! Who else!" Rhiannon replied. "You seem rather surprised."

"Well, I knew that he loved you, but, forgive me…" Rebeccah muttered.

"But…what?"

"Well, my lady, I just never saw him as the marrying kind." Rebeccah said.

"Yes. That's what they all say." Rhiannon sighed. "But you heed my words: You work for me. And George of the House of Nottingham is to be my husband. I will not hear of you insulting him. I can tolerate that from ignorant villagers, but I will not tolerate that from you!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.

Lady Rebeccah was surprised by Lady Rhiannon's warning. There was a shadow of a dangerous edge in her tone. It seemed perhaps, the Sheriff of Nottingham was rubbing off on her.

Lady Rhiannon started to walk slowly through the rooms, taking a glance to make certain nothing was out of place and properly attended to. Rebeccah followed closely behind.

"You confuse me, my lady." Rebeccah began. "You said you will be married. So, will you not be selling your home? You will be living at Nottingham Castle will you not?" Lady Rebeccah asked.

Rhiannon turned to face Rebeccah. "I _**am**_ living at Nottingham Castle. I'm not coming back here to live. But I will retain the rights to this manor and the property." Rhiannon announced.

"But, my lady, when you marry the Sheriff, this home shall become his!" Rebeccah pointed out.

"It is my home! It is all I have left of myself. Of my family." Rhiannon said. "True, this is not the home I grew up in. But I bought this home with the money left to me from the home we lived in. Everything that surrounded me in my childhood home is within these walls. Don't you dare tell me this is not indeed, mine!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"You could just transfer all of your belongings to Nottingham Castle?" Rebeccah suggested.

"No." Rhiannon said. "Some things will come with me, but…do not question me! Now, you never answered me, Rebeccah. What news is there?"

"I have news that I'd normally consider good news, but now I'm not so sure." Rebeccah said.

Rhiannon raised her eyebrow and regarded Rebeccah curiously.

"Your taxes have been reduced." Rebeccah announced.

Rhiannon smiled and slowly shook her head. "He reduced my taxes…how charming of him." She sighed.

"Actually, my lady, he did more than that." Rebeccah said.

Rhiannon looked up, squinting her eyes, questioningly.

"He removed your taxes completely." Lady Rebeccah said. "You've been exempted from paying property tax…forever."

"What?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed. She was astonished. "Well, I shall have to speak to my Lord. I shouldn't be treated any differently than anyone else in his county."

"Yes, my lady." Lady Rebeccah said. There was no use arguing with her.

"How fares my horse?" Rhiannon asked.

"Fine, my lady."

"Good. I would like to arrange for her to be brought to the Sheriff's stables. It is loathsome being reduced to begging, or in my case – stealing, in order to get around this town!" Rhiannon huffed.

"I will speak to the stable master, my lady." Rebeccah agreed.

"Do it today." Rhiannon instructed. "I want my horse brought to the castle tomorrow. I shall notify my Lord of this today."

"Yes, my lady." Rebeccah said.

As Rhiannon was turning to leave, Rebeccah had a sudden thought.

"My lady, if I may?" Rebeccah began.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember three years ago, when you thought I was taking a vacation?" Rebeccah asked.

"Yes. Weren't you?" Rhiannon asked, slightly puzzled by the topic of discussion.

"No." Rebeccah cleared her throat. "I was helping out a friend. You see, my friend, Sarah was sent at that time on a mission with an emissary of Bishop of Hereford's to deliver an important document to the King. She asked if I could take her place at the Dubois home." Rebeccah stated.

"Yes, Rebeccah, what does this have to do with…"

"I received word from Lady Dubois that she is coming to Nottingham for a brief visit. May I invite her to visit me here, as I stay and watch your manor, for a brief cup of tea?" Rebeccah asked.

"I don't see why not." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Thank you, my lady." Lady Rebeccah smiled as they said goodbye.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Fallen Knight was puzzled by this one. She was a little different than the others.

He sat by a fire in an abandoned cabin in the north. The same cabin he once held his Lady Meridwyn in, along with the Sheriff's wench, just about a month ago. How things had changed since he managed his escaped from the dungeon of Nottingham Castle.

He smiled. He wondered how long it would take the Sheriff to figure it out. He had his answer nearly a fortnight ago, when heralds announced the public execution of Hector of Nettlestone, scheduled on the fourteenth in the village square in Nottingham. Poor Hector. A trusting, yet misguided soul.

After his escape, he made his way north. He managed to find two pretty maidens to amuse him for a time. But, soon he grew tired of them. Then he disposed of them.

But this one…she was different.

He was standing over her when she awoke on a small cot in the cold, dark room he held her in. He remembered….

_She opened her eyes. "You've awakened." He breathed._

_The young maiden rubbed her eyes. She suddenly remembered._

"_What are you waiting for? Do it." She said._

"_Do what?" He asked slowly, taunting her. For, he knew exactly what she meant._

"_Kill me. Get it over with." The beautiful young maiden said._

"_There, there. Did someone die on you, my precious?" The Fallen Knight smirked as he stroked her cheek with his hand. She flinched. He continued. "For I did notice - you're wearing the colour of mourning."_

"_I'm dead anyway." She muttered._

_He paused a moment. His forceful hand still on her cheek. Then he raked his fingers through her long golden tresses as he looked into her blue eyes. The colour of a summer sky. The same colour eyes as…Meridwyn's._

"_No. I don't think so. Not yet." The Fallen Knight whispered as he leaned forward close to her left ear. "There's too many games I wish to play with you before I end your despair." He hissed._

_She looked down but he grabbed her face with both of his hands, and forced it upward. She met his gaze._

"_Do what you want with me." The golden haired maid of Nottingham said evenly. "I told you…I am already dead."_

"_You're telling me then…that you're impervious to pain?" The Fallen Knight asked._

"_Indeed." The maid of Nottingham said._

"_On the contrary, wench! Maybe I can wake you up?"_

_She looked up into his eyes. Cold, steel grey eyes. They lacked depth. They lacked emotion. They were just simply…cold._

"_Whatever it is that made you give up, is nothing compared to what I have in store for you to wake you from that boring state you're in." He sneered._

Yes, there was definitely something about this one. He realized he had no wish to kill her…yet. She could indeed serve a very fine purpose. It had been a long time since he indulged in these games. The last two wenches did nothing to inspire him or captivate his attention. But this bonny blue eyed maid, this beautiful golden haired maid of Nottingham, was going to prove very interesting.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was present in the Council Quarters with his Scribe, his page, and a young man found in the village who was known to be a superior artist. The young man was studying the drawings the Sheriff had shown to him.

"Can you recreate these drawings?" The Sheriff asked him.

"Yes. I believe I can." The young man replied confidently.

"I need more than one copy. I need several, in fact. These shall be posted throughout the realm. I need both of their images in the center of a large document. There needs to be room for writing. The images are to be shown on a proclamation, you see." The Sheriff explained.

"Indeed. Perhaps you can tell me what will be written on the proclamation so that I know how much space to leave, and how much I have to work with?" The young man suggested.

"My Scribe will give you a copy of it." The Sheriff said. He looked to the Scribe. The Scribe nodded agreement. The Sheriff turned once more to the artist.

"How long will this take?" The Sheriff asked.

"It will take me some time. But I do have an assistant who can help me. He's very good with drawing as well. Together, we could get these documents ready for you rather expediently." The young man assured.

"Good." The Sheriff remarked. "And how expediently will that be?"

"Probably, two or three days." The young man said.

"Then you had better begin." The Sheriff said. He gestured toward the table, motioning for the young man to take a seat.

"What supplies do you require?" The Sheriff asked him.

"I need parchment paper, charcoal, ink, my plume quill, and plenty of light." The artist replied.

"Page!" The Sheriff called to the young blond haired lad.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go into the village and obtain the aforementioned supplies." The Sheriff instructed.

The page looked up at him curiously.

The Sheriff looked to the Scribe. "Oh for God's sake, give him a crown to buy these items with!" He commanded.

"And my quill." The artist reminded.

"Yes, yes." The Sheriff replied hastily. "Who is the other artist you speak of?" The Sheriff asked the artist.

"He is Colin, my Lord."

"Where can I find him?"

"He lives just outside of the village. Between the homes of the swordsmith and the dressmaker Madam from France." The artist said.

"Page!" The Sheriff called to the young lad again, just before the page got to the door to carry out the first task.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Go to Master Colin's home and summon him to accompany us here. Tell him I request his presence and that the matter is of utmost importance." The Sheriff directed.

"Yes, my Lord." The page said.

As the page left the chamber to carry out his tasks, the Sheriff's sentry informed him that Lady Rhiannon had just returned to the castle.

The Sheriff turned to the Scribe. "Give this man…" He turned to the artist. "What is your name?" He asked.

"It is Michael, my Lord." The artist said.

"Right." The Sheriff commented. He looked to the Scribe. "Scribe, give Michael a copy of my dictation of the proclamation. You men continue, and I shall return in time."

The Scribe and the artist, Michael, nodded.

The Sheriff went through the door and found Rhiannon standing there, wearing a pale blue gown trimmed in lace, and her black velvet cape over top of it. He grabbed her by her arm and began to walk with her down the stone corridor.

"Where were you?" The Sheriff demanded gruffly.

"I visited my home." Rhiannon said.

"You should have told me." The Sheriff admonished.

"It is over. I went, carried out my intentions and have now returned to you. If I had told you, we would still be discussing it, or more to the point – arguing over it, and nothing would have been accomplished." Rhiannon stated.

The Sheriff eyed her curiously. "And what is that supposed to mean?" He asked in frustration.

"Exactly what I said." Rhiannon pointed out. "I needed to attend to matters of my household. There are two things I wish to discuss with you." She said.

"Come on!" The Sheriff commanded. He led her down the corridor, then another hall on the left, until eventually they were standing outside of his office. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and led her inside.

"What are these matters you wish to see me about?" He asked.

"I borrowed your horse today." Rhiannon blurted.

The Sheriff shook his head, exhaled a heavy sigh and opened his mouth to challenge her, but once again wasn't quick enough.

"I've arranged for my mare to be brought to your stables." Rhiannon announced.

"You do not jest." The Sheriff said.

"No. I am used to having freedom. I am accustomed to having my horse available to me to transport me where I need to go."

"Fine." The Sheriff relented.

"I also learned you have exempted me from paying property tax?" Rhiannon said, curiously.

"Yes. I did do that." The Sheriff admitted.

"I should not be treated any differently than the villagers." Rhiannon said. "You tell me they complain to you all of the time about their taxes. Why won't you give them shelter?"

"You're doing it again." The Sheriff said.

"What?" Rhiannon asked.

"Challenging my decisions!" The Sheriff exclaimed as he came toward her. "Listen to me. There are two reasons why I did that."

"Yes?" Rhiannon urged him.

"The first reason is, that there are only two groups of people in relation to me who I would ever exempt from paying taxes – my wife, and my children." The Sheriff said emphatically.

"But…" Rhiannon began, she was cut off.

"But really, it doesn't matter a tinker's damn does it? Because the second reason is - you are going to be my wife! That means you will be living here with me in this castle. Therefore, you won't be holding onto that property long enough to feel guilt over the taxes you did not pay!" The Sheriff shouted. Why was she being so difficult?

"Well, actually, you are right about one thing." Rhiannon said. "True, I will be living with you here in this castle. But, I plan to hold onto my property." She announced.

"What?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"I must, my Lord. It is all I have. It is…me."

"You will not need it, my lady. You can move everything you own here." The Sheriff suggested.

"No. I need a refuge." Rhiannon said.

"Why?" The Sheriff asked, puzzled. His left eyebrow raised.

"You'd never understand it." Rhiannon muttered.

"Try me." The Sheriff said.

"Because… there are no guarantees!" Rhiannon admitted.

"My lady?"

"Just trust in me…" Rhiannon said.

"Confound you, lady! What is it you're trying to tell me? That you don't think we'll last so you need a place to go to as a back up? Is that it?" The Sheriff demanded.

"No…no…you do not understand." Rhiannon said, shaking her head.

"There is a lot I don't understand." The Sheriff said. "You're something else, my lady. One moment you set my soul on fire. The next moment you're crawling under my skin." The Sheriff said gruffly.

Rhiannon stood with her mouth agape, still shaking her head.

"Well at least you don't do that crying thing that other maidens do." The Sheriff remarked facetiously. "Ever notice that? In a pitch that makes you want to stick arrows in your ears?" He noted in disgust.

"Maybe you should tell _**me **_what _**you're**_ trying to say?" Rhiannon remarked. "I'm waiting to hear all about it." She glared at him, her green eyes ablaze in anger.

"No." He said, shaking his head and moving in a little closer. "You never answered me. Why do you feel a need to keep your home? It won't be needed. You will be my wife. A husband and wife live together." The Sheriff said a little more gently this time.

"I just…need it. I don't you expect you to understand. But it is my life. That place is my life."

The Sheriff shook his head and backed away preparing to leave.

"We're not done with this discussion." He warned. "I'll see _**you**_ later in the private chambers."

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Rhiannon called to him. "Or is it in fact, a dare?"

"Take it anyway you want." The Sheriff snapped. "It could mean all of the above."

"This is what I get for flirting with danger…" Rhiannon muttered.

"What's that you said?" The Sheriff challenged, noting her flippant comment, though he didn't hear her words.

"I see I have caused your anger." Rhiannon said.

"Lady…you haven't seen the half of it." The Sheriff warned.

"Maybe you're not channeling it the right way." Rhiannon mused.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north as he eyed her curiously.

"Well, if you indeed follow through with your promise, threat, or whatever it is you're calling it, I would've shown you…before now." Rhiannon taunted.

"Really?" The Sheriff asked sarcastically.

"Yes. And you can take that literally, or figuratively, or any way you want to, because any way you look at it, it works!" Rhiannon exclaimed as she walked hurriedly past him, and straight through the door.

The Sheriff shook his head and looked to the ceiling. Women…why did they have to be so damn complicated?

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rain was beginning to fall just after midday. The same two guards who first met Luke when he arrived eighteen days ago, were stationed once again at the castle gates. When the portcullis raised behind them, they took note and turned around.

The same tall, lean man with the dark hair and mustache, and green blue eyes they met before bringing a message from Duke Farnsworth, stood there wearing a uniform issued for the Black Knights.

"You again!" The man Luke recognized as the serious one, remarked curtly. He was tall with long dark hair and brown eyes.

Luke smiled at them both. "Good day, gentlemen. I've been asked to join you here at your post."

"Are you related to the Sheriff or something?" The other guard asked. He was medium height, with golden blond hair and grey eyes.

"Well, no. Why do you ask?" Luke inquired.

The dark haired guard chuckled. "That was a good one, Adam!"

Luke began to shake his head.

The golden haired guard spoke. "It is just rather curious that you seemed to have moved up from messenger to knight rather…quickly."

"I am still in training. I'm not really a knight, yet." Luke replied modestly.

"Indeed." The taller guard said. "You'd do well to remember that." He seethed.

"That was probably a little harsh, Drake." Adam remarked.

"Oh, shut your cakehole!" Drake admonished.

They heard horses approaching. They turned their attention ahead. It was Sir Gisborne and his patrols returning to the castle.

"Sir Gisborne." Drake said in greeting.

Guy looked over their faces. He recognized Luke's.

"You." He sneered as he regarded him.

"Sir Gisborne." Luke said.

"You've moved along with your training rather well, I see." Guy said evenly.

"I am still learning, my Lord." Luke said.

"Yes. I'm sure you are." Guy commented sarcastically. He leaned down from his horse to inch closer to Luke's face. "I do not trust you. My cousin was misguided to employ you as a Black Knight!" He seethed.

Luke maintained his gaze but said nothing.

"I'll be watching you." Guy warned as he straightened up. Then he urged his horse along into a cantor as the portcullis raised to allow his entrance.

He found the Sheriff in the Council Quarters with the Scribe and a man unfamiliar to him who was seated at the table. He appeared to be writing something.

"Cousin?" Guy called as he entered into the room.

"You're dripping." The Sheriff remarked as he came toward him. He ushered Guy into the hallway.

"Some news, Guy?" The Sheriff asked.

"No, my Lord." Guy said. "We haven't found the maiden yet. No trace of her."

"Keep looking." The Sheriff instructed. "We have to be sure before we start off to find her."

"Indeed." Guy said. He nodded past him to the Scribe and the man at the table inside the chamber. "What's going on?" He asked.

"Oh, this is a stroke of brilliance, cousin!" The Sheriff said. "Hang on." He went inside and walked toward the table. He proceeded to pick up two documents and then he brought them back to show to Guy.

"What's this?" Guy asked as he inspected the drawings.

"It seems the Duke saw the couple who were given the infant by that leperous outlaw. He described them in detail to…"

"Master Richard?" Guy asked.

"Yes. How did you know?" The Sheriff asked, surprised.

"Just a hunch. He's always been good at drawing maps."

"He's been drawing maps for me for years." The Sheriff said.

"So, who is he?" Guy asked as he pointed through the doorway at the young man who was lean with dark curly hair, seated at the table with the Scribe.

"He is Michael. One of Nottingham's own artists, cousin. I have commissioned he and his assistant to copy the drawings. The drawings will be on my proclamations." The Sheriff said.

"Brilliant, cousin!" Guy said.

"Yes. I was very pleased that the Duke came up with this most excellent plan. I think it's genius, myself!"

"He's the best." Guy added.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "And trust me, he will be duly rewarded. He may be the reason I will get my child back to me." He added solemnly.

"The time is drawing nearer." Guy commented.

The Sheriff sighed. "Yes."

"Everything alright, cousin?" Guy asked him.

"Yes. Just…I don't know." The Sheriff said, suddenly lost for words. Damn the woman for what she did to him! Now he couldn't even speak in coherent sentences!

"The Duke did say he believes they are looking out for your child's best interest." Guy pointed out attempting to reassure.

"Yes. I know." The Sheriff said.

Guy tilted his head upward and squinted his soft brown eyes curiously at his cousin.

"It's Rhiannon. She's sending me to madness – I swear it." The Sheriff said, evenly.

"I thought…" Guy began. He was cut off.

"We were happy? Yes – that's just it, cousin. She does make me happy. She pleases me more than I ever could have conjured in a dream! She awakens me. And she angers me. She drives me to madness and to places I don't want to go to. She makes me believe. And she makes me doubtful…" The Sheriff stated.

"Cousin?" Guy asked, perplexed.

"She makes me feel love I never knew existed. And then she makes me feel hatred." The Sheriff added quietly.

"No! Not hatred! What are you saying, George? Did you quarrel?" Guy asked.

"She is something else!" The Sheriff said as he widened his eyes. "Can you believe she challenged me for erasing her taxes?"

Guy smiled. "Actually, I can."

"She took off on my horse today, without telling me, let along obtaining permission. She went to her home – which she tells me, she is keeping and she doesn't care what I think of it!" The Sheriff spat.

Guy just maintained his gaze but said nothing. He was rather astonished. His cousin had never once gone into detail about anything to do with his affairs with women. This was more information than he was accustomed to hearing about. He wasn't quite sure how to react.

"Oh, and she informed me that – 'By the way, my horse is coming to your stables tomorrow'. " The Sheriff attempted to mimic her tone. "This has been my day thus far, cousin. Being told – not asked – by my lady on two very important matters. Damn the woman!"

Suddenly, Guy couldn't control himself and a chortle escaped him.

"You think this is funny?" The Sheriff said, disgusted.

"Forgive me." Guy snorted as he shook his head. "It _**is**_ rather amusing."

"Really?" The Sheriff asked, facetiously.

"You've never been put in your place by a woman." Guy remarked.

"Put in my place? Is that what you call it? I call it pure lunacy! Her ideas are irrelevant. She doesn't need her horse, and she sure as hell doesn't need that manor!" The Sheriff barked emphatically.

"Indeed." Guy said.

"There is nothing funny about it. She had better learn her place in this household!" The Sheriff huffed.

They were interrupted by the page.

"My Lord Sheriff, if I may?" The page interjected.

"Yes?" The Sheriff said.

The page motioned for the man beside him to come closer. The man was tall with black hair and blue eyes. His fingertips were stained with charcoal.

"This is Master Colin." The page introduced him.

"Michael's assistant." The Sheriff acknowledged.

"My Lord." Colin said.

"I have drawings that I need reproduced in mass quantities for a proclamation to be issued throughout the realm. The drawings are of a man and his wife wanted for kidnapping. Your employer is assisting me and suggested you." The Sheriff said. "Will you lend your talent to assist me in this important task?"

"I shall be honoured to assist you, my Lord." Master Colin said.

"Good. You may proceed inside." The Sheriff said as he gestured through the door of the Council Quarters. "As you see, Michael is already there." The Sheriff remarked. Then he looked to the page.

"You have his supplies?"

"Yes, my Lord." The page replied.

"Then see that he gets them!" The Sheriff commanded.

The page and Colin went inside. The Sheriff and Guy continued their discussion.

"What are you going to do?" Guy asked.

"I don't know. Right now I'm going riding. I feel stifled. I need air!" The Sheriff exclaimed.

"It is raining." Guy pointed out.

"I do not care!" The Sheriff spat. "When isn't it raining?" He remarked sarcastically as he headed down the corridor.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was well past dusk. Rhiannon hadn't seen the Sheriff since hours earlier when they quarreled in the office. He told her she was crawling under his skin. The first unkind words he'd ever spoken to her. She went to the table in the den and touched the silver decanter letting her fingers linger there a moment before she lifted the stopper, then filled a goblet with the dark amber liquid. She picked it up and raised it to her lips. The brandy warmed her. After a few sips, she began to ease. She needed to calm herself. For, she was anxious about seeing him.

Another length of time passed. And two more libations of brandy. Rhiannon was feeling warm. She set the goblet down on the table beside the bed and removed her gown. She laid the blue gown over a chair at the foot of the bed. She then tried to splash cool water on her face. It didn't seem to help. So she scooped up a large quantity of water and splashed it this time on her neck and décolleté. That helped some. Satisfied, she strode over to the bed, pulled back the silk linens, and found her refuge. She was asleep in moments.

It was late. The moon was already starting to rise on the horizon. The Sheriff was sitting in his den, sipping some of his brandy. Luckily, there was still some there, because he noted the decanter was light in weight, and a goblet was missing. He was certain he'd find it somewhere in the private chamber once he opened the door.

He finished his libation and walked to the door. There was light from a lone candle illuminating the room in a dim orange glow. Rhiannon's skin glistened as the light bathed her body, lying there in sweet repose in his bed. He was stirred. As much as she had angered him, he needed her. He loved her. He would have her.

He moved closer toward the bed. His amber, hazel eyes burned like torches, on fire for her touch. He stood there a moment observing her. Her soft breathing. The fluttering of her silky eyelashes during dreams.

"Rhiannon…" He breathed.

She awoke. She opened her eyes and looked up. The Sheriff was leaning down toward her.

She sat up and almost bumped him on the head.

"My Lord?" She said as she pulled the linens up to cover her naked breasts.

"It's true." The Sheriff whispered huskily. "You _**do**_ set my soul on fire – because you're under my skin." He breathed.

Rhiannon stared at him shaking her head in confusion.

"You do things to me no maid has ever done." The Sheriff continued. "You make me feel joy, ecstasy, jealousy, and anger. I have emotions I never knew I had."

"You did follow through with your…promise." Lady Rhiannon said quietly.

The Sheriff moved in suddenly and pulled her in close with his right hand. "Lady, I need you…" He breathed as he began to kiss her hungrily. "I am possessed by you. You make me feel alive…"

"My love…" Rhiannon whispered as the Sheriff kissed her. He devoured her taste, seeking her tongue with his. He ran his hand down her shoulder and moved toward her breast. He pushed her down on the bed and straddled her. His fur trimmed black robe swirled around him. His hair gleamed like the down of a raven against the soft orange glow of the candlelight. His eyes burned fire for her. His perfectly shaped lips upturned in a smirk.

"I know nothing of the true taste of you." He whispered as he bent down toward her. "But it's there. Just press against me. I finally have your attention. Listen closely, my lady…" He whispered as he leaned in close. His soft beard tickled her cheek, then she felt his warm breath in her ear.

"My lady, you are mine…" He whispered.

She cried out as he roughly pulled her in close to him. He raked his fingers though her hair as he devoured her lips with his. Her body began to respond. Then he gently tugged on her hair as he began to whisper: "You've had it in you to love me like this…you were born to love me, my lady." The Sheriff whispered as he continued to kiss her.

But she did not hear his words. She heard nothing beyond the fifth word of his phrase. For alas, she had a memory. The sinister voice saying to her: _"You've had it in you long enough, whore. It is time to give me…"_

She closed her eyes tightly, attempting to shut out the memory.

The Sheriff stopped kissing her. He was about to speak until he looked upon her face. Why was she grimacing?

"My lady." The Sheriff said.

"No!" She cried out, still with her eyes closed.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff shouted.

Rhiannon opened her eyes. They were vacant. She wasn't looking at him. Once again, she was looking _**through**_ him. He hated himself for what he had to do but he needed to snap her out of it. So he lightly slapped her face…

Her response was immediate.

She shot up from the bed, slapped the Sheriff across his face, then got out of the bed. Quickly, she grabbed her velvet dressing gown lying carelessly on the floor, threw it on, and pulled it close around her. She backed toward the door.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked as he arose from the bed slowly. Her eyes were darting. She didn't acknowledge him. Exactly the same way she reacted the first time she awoke in their tent at camp in the north, right after he found her. She went mad! Like she had been recently…attacked! He began to slowly advance toward her.

She backed up against the door. She held out her hand in front of her to signal for him not to advance any further. She spoke, but it was still as if she did not know him. "No. You will _**not**_ touch me again!" She voiced in a low growl. That same, foreign voice that he only ever heard once before. On the very night she did the same thing she was doing right now!

"It is I, my lady. It is George." The Sheriff said as calmly as he could. For, he was already starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

She ignored him and turned around. She threw the doors open and went into the den. As she quickly strode through there, she found the ends of the sash and tied the gown secure at her waist, the burgandy velvet fabric hugged her perfectly curved body.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff called. "Stop!"

"You will _**not **_touch me!" Rhiannon shrieked as she started to run. He caught up to her and held her before she made it to the door leading out of the den into the corridor outside.

"Don't touch me!" Lady Rhiannon shrieked as she tried to break free from his grasp.

The Sheriff turned her around to face him. Tears streamed down her cheeks but her eyes were still vacant and darting. That murderous. Loathsome. Bastard. He violated her!

"My lady…" The Sheriff said. More like choked. The words were strained. He was horrified. Of all of the times in her presence that he had felt it before, this was the most powerless he ever felt. And the most enraged. Because now, the need to kill that leperous insect, was stronger than ever. He would never rest….

Rhiannon kept staring but appeared to be calming. Finally she found his eyes with hers. She realized by the look on his face…he knew. She looked away. She couldn't bear to look at him. The secret she'd been keeping, even from herself. And he knew. She never said much to suggest it. But he knew. He would never forgive her. She looked to the floor.

"Don't look at me." She said quietly, evenly.

He put his hand on her chin, and gently tilted it upward forcing her to look at him. "I shall always look at you." He said gently. "My lady, what happened doesn't matter. I love you. It doesn't matter…except that he will pay." The Sheriff said.

"Really? It doesn't matter? I was touched by another man." Rhiannon pointed out. She could no longer control her tears.

"You were not touched. You were assaulted. There is a difference." The Sheriff added.

"I did not wish to remember. I wish I hadn't." Rhiannon whispered. She was trembling almost violently.

"My lady." The Sheriff whispered as he pulled her in close to embrace her. "We shall never speak of this again, not unless you need to." He reassured her.

"You're certain that you forgive me?" She asked.

"There is nothing to forgive, my angel." The Sheriff said. "You will still be my Lady Nottingham, and I can assure you, I am going to kill the man who did this to you. I promise you I will surely kill him very slowly... and painfully."

"For once, I am glad to hear that." Rhiannon said as she leaned into him. She was grateful. Even though it was too late, she felt the most protected she had felt in years.

"My lady?" The Sheriff interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?" Rhiannon murmured.

"Your wishes have been granted." The Sheriff said.

She hugged him tightly.

The Sheriff had a headache. Probably from keeping his jaw too tightly clenched. Suddenly he remembered something that Lady Rhiannon said to him that night he found her when she awakened briefly before falling into that interminable slumber. When he was settling her into the cot, he was calmly attempting to reassure her. He said: _"You're safe now, my lady. I assure you." _What was it she said to him? It troubled him for weeks. Yes! She looked at him for the very first time and said: _"It's too late, my Lord."_ And then she fell fast asleep! He drew a heavy sigh as he continued to embrace her. That is what she meant. He was too late to save her, she had already been violated! That sick. Loathsome. Leperous. Bastard! He was already going to die. But there weren't enough torturous devices available that the Sheriff wished to use on this creature!


	40. Chapter 40

In the morning, Rhiannon found herself to be alone. She must have wakened the Sheriff. For, she kept herself awake – tossing and turning the whole night. She couldn't shut the intrusive thoughts from her mind. The ones where she recalled the words of her captor, and the attack. And the words of her lover the night before, when he realized. Now that he knew.

She couldn't live with this. She was angry that she remembered. It would be the ruin of her and must not be permitted to take a hold of her.

It was Sunday. Yet she knew that neither prayers, confession, nor absolution would do nothing to help her. There was only one solution that she could think of.

She grabbed her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and put it on. She arose from the bed and arranged the gown so that it hugged her body, then she fastened the sash about her waist. She slipped on some shoes and went into the den. She looked to the door that led down into Mortianna's lair. She took a breath and proceeded.

It was dark and there was a chill in the air as she made her way down the stone circular staircase.

Mortianna heard footsteps and greeted Lady Rhiannon at the bottom of the stairs.

"My child!" Mortianna exclaimed. "What brings thee here? You look troubled?" Mortianna said as she led Rhiannon into her apothecary.

"Thank you for the lavender soap." Rhiannon remarked. "It was heavenly."

Mortianna raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I'm sure that is not the only reason you are here, Lady Rhiannon." Mortianna said knowingly. "For, you've never trembled in my presence before."

Rhiannon sighed. "Indeed, wise lady." She said. "I need your talents."

Mortianna smiled. "Come, my child." She said. She led Lady Rhiannon to the small table. Rhiannon took a seat there. Mortianna went to the fire. A small cauldron was steeping batwing tea. She ladled it into two stoneware cups and brought them to the table.

"Drink." Mortianna instructed. "It will help."

Rhiannon did so and sipped the batwing tea. Mortianna took a seat across from her and looked at her.

"I need desperately to forget…something. Do you have a means at your disposal to help a person to erase something from their memory?" Rhiannon implored her.

Mortianna eyed her curiously. "Well, I would think that depends…on what it is you wish to forget." Mortianna mused.

Rhiannon leaned forward and grabbed Mortianna's wrists.

"Please, Madam! I implore you. This thing it is I wish to forget, if I carry it with me each day, it will be the ruin of me. Especially, in concern to your master." Rhiannon pleaded.

"Do you wish to tell me, my child? For, I must know what it is you wish to forget before I can agree. I will not do anything blindly." Mortianna stated.

Rhiannon shook her head. "Forgive me, Madam. I cannot speak of it. I simply cannot!"

Mortianna smiled. "Then drink." She instructed Rhiannon as she pointed to her cup. "Drink all of it."

Rhiannon was puzzled but followed Mortianna's instruction. The batwing tea was slightly bitter compared to ordinary varieties, and the liquid had a slight sedimentation to it. It was not the most palatable tea she'd ever tasted, but she drank all of it, notwithstanding.

After a few minutes she finished it and placed the cup on the table.

Mortianna reached across and took the cup. She held it up to her and peered at the debris scattered in various patterns along the base. Rhiannon noticed that her eyes glazed over. She seemed distant.

Mortianna studied it a few moments. She was beginning to see it. She tried to conceal her shock. She saw it. She saw the event that took place that likely caused the precipitous delivery of the lady's child in May. Now she understood the bleeding. Did the Sheriff know? Mortianna drew in a sigh and placed the cup on the table, fixing her eyes upon Lady Rhiannon's.

"Does he know?" Mortianna asked.

Rhiannon looked at her directly as she began to speak. "Yes, Mortianna. I remembered this last night. He was with me when I remembered."

"You're certain?" Mortianna repeated. "Because I will not do it unless he has been told. My Lord Sheriff needs to know that you were violently attacked."

"He knows…everything." Rhiannon said. "And that is why I need your help. I cannot look at him. I can't even look at my own reflection in the mirror!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "I wish to please my Lord. But how can I, if I remember that vile man every time my lover touches me?"

Mortianna maintained her gaze but chose not to speak. Rhiannon continued.

"The last thing I want to come into my mind when my dark prince touches me, is the memory of that terrible man taking his liberty with me! Don't you see? You won't just be doing this for me. You'd be doing this for your Sheriff too." Rhiannon reminded her.

Mortianna finally responded. She stroked her chin with the gnarled fingertips of her left hand. "This is a difficult request." Mortianna mused. "You must know that it will only be _**you**_ who shall not remember. But your husband will."

"Yes." Rhiannon said.

"There may be times you may feel like the Sheriff is regarding you with pity. But after I do this – you will not understand why it is he may sometimes look at you that way." Mortianna warned.

"That's a chance I'll have to take. For, I will not be able to completely please my Lord if I am constantly reminded of that horrible event. And I haven't been able to get it out of my head ever since I remembered it. Why did I remember it? Especially, when my Lord was present?" Rhiannon cried.

Mortianna could see the matter was greatly troubling her. The intent to please her master was apparent to Mortianna. Still, she had some reservations.

"There is one other thing about it that concerns me." Mortianna began.

"What is that?" Rhiannon asked.

"Every event we live through happens for a reason. They shape our character. You may lose your awareness of your surroundings. Your keen sense of danger. True, the matter troubles you. But it helps define your ability to defend yourself." Mortianna said.

Lady Rhiannon shook her head. "I do not understand. You're saying it's a good thing this happened?" Rhiannon asked, incredulous.

"No. But you have a heightened awareness to people and things around you because of it. You are more prepared to handle danger than most maidens are. When the memory is removed, you may lose your sixth sense." Mortianna warned.

"Still, I'm willing to suffer whatever consequences there may or may not be." Rhiannon stated. "I do not know how I will be able to look my lover in the eye again, or live with myself, until this is done."

"This will take some thought." Mortianna said. For, it would take more than thought to use the only plant extract she could think of.

"How long will that take?" Rhiannon asked. "The sooner I can erase this torturous memory the better."

"There is something I can use. But I need to learn more about it. It's a dangerous seed if ingested in inappropriate quantities." Mortianna hinted.

"Is there only one that will work?" Rhiannon asked.

"The one I have in mind will work the best. But I must get this one right. You understand?" Mortianna said.

"What is this herb that will work to erase this memory?" Rhiannon asked, curiously.

"No." Mortianna said. "If I agree to this, when the time comes, you will _**not**_ ask me what the plant used is. You will not ask where it is grown so that you may find it." Mortianna cautioned.

"Why not?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"It is a dangerous plant. Anything that will alter the memory interferes with the mind. When this plant gets into the wrong hands the result is catastrophic. Already, outlaws use it to drug their victims so they can rob them blind!" Mortianna exclaimed.

"But…" Lady Rhiannon began.

"_**If**_ I agree to this, the day may come when you want more of it than the amount you obtained from me." Mortianna began. "But this is one of those things that if you went looking for it, and took more of it, having already partaken of it, that would cause you to fall into a sleep longer than the one you were in when you were brought to this castle in May." Mortianna warned her.

"I'd just like to know what it is I'm taking, Mortianna." Rhiannon pointed out.

"No, my child. You must trust in me." Mortianna said gently. She couldn't risk Lady Rhiannon knowing anything about thorn apple seed. There had been cases of death. If Rhiannon died, the Sheriff would kill Mortianna for certain. Which is why the matter required more than just thought. The matter required discussion with her master before she would even consider such an arduous task. Mortianna wasn't going to take any chances. She would speak to the Sheriff about this tonight.

When Lady Rhiannon entered back into the chambers, she found the Sheriff standing there in the private chamber. She stiffened. His back was turned. Good. She slowly walked into the private chamber keeping her eyes downcast.

The Sheriff turned around when he heard her footsteps.

"My lady, Rhiannon." He said.

"Yes. Good morning, my Lord." Rhiannon said absently.

"Were you just visiting Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked, curiously.

"Uhm, yes, my Lord." Rhiannon said as she walked over to the bed and sat upon it. "We were…sharing some batwing tea."

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow curiously. "Really?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Rhiannon."

"Mmm." Rhiannon murmured, still keeping her head down.

"Look at me." The Sheriff said.

"No." Rhiannon replied. "Don't ask me to."

The Sheriff strode slowly toward the bed. He stood in front of her, then crouched down before her. He reached across and lifted her chin until she was forced to meet his gaze. A tear was streaming down one of her cheeks. She managed to look into his eyes briefly, then she bit her lip and looked away.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff said.

"I cannot look at you!" Rhiannon said angrily. "Don't you understand?" Rhiannon cried.

"My lady, there is no reason not to look at me. Don't do this, Rhiannon. Don't carry the blame for this senseless act!" The Sheriff warned.

"I hate myself for it…" Rhiannon whispered.

"My lady…" The Sheriff said. "You must do what you need to do to put it behind you. And I'm going to help you with that. But right now, my love, you can start by…looking at me." The Sheriff smiled.

She couldn't help but melt at his sweet words. Even though she wanted desperately to look upon his handsome face, suddenly she began to tremble. She had never felt so much emotion before at the mere thought of looking her handsome lover in the eye.

Rhiannon squeezed her eyes shut and began to shake her head. "Oh, my love…I cannot do it!" Rhiannon began to sob.

Her chest began to heave and she began to cry so hard it appeared she was losing her breath. The Sheriff put his hands upon her shoulders to steady her. For once, he didn't know what to do.

"I'll kill him!" Rhiannon began to suddenly scream. "Where is he? Tell me! I'll kill him!" She shrieked.

The Sheriff quickly grabbed her and held her to him. "Oh, my lady. It will be okay. Hold onto me, my love. It will be okay. I promise you." He whispered gently.

"George!" She cried out in between sobs.

"Just breathe, my lady." The Sheriff whispered. "Come on, Rhiannon." He wanted to say more, but what could he say? She was clearly tormented. No wonder she had forgotten so much of that time when she was held captive. It was a miracle she even remembered him!

"He ruined me. He has ruined us!" Lady Rhiannon cried as she held fast onto the Sheriff.

"No." The Sheriff said. He held her out in front of him and put his hand on her chin and lifted it up. "Don't you ever say that to me!" He said. "Look at me!" He commanded. She obeyed. But her vision was disturbed by her tears.

"Don't ever tell me that murderous bastard has ruined us!" The Sheriff warned. "Nobody will ever come between us. Least of all, _**him**_!"

"Yes." Rhiannon whispered weakly.

"My lady, why don't you rest awhile? Then we must get ready for mass." The Sheriff said.

"Rest would be good. I have a headache. For, I didn't sleep well. But, mass…I wasn't planning to attend. It was the furthest thought from my mind." Rhiannon admitted.

"We should go." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon raised her eyebrow. "You're kidding. You want to attend mass? _**You**_? Oh…I get it. My confession. Yes." Rhiannon expressed her chagrin.

"No, Rhiannon…" The Sheriff began.

"I'll be perfectly fine once absolution is granted! Okay, I get it now." Rhiannon remarked facetiously.

"My lady, you couldn't be more wrong." The Sheriff said, shaking his head.

"Really?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. Really. Bishop of Hereford is going to be marrying us. Appearances are important to that lot, you know." The Sheriff explained.

"That's it? That is the reason you wish to go?"

"Of course it's the reason! You know I'd rather stick flaming arrows in my eyes than go to….mass!" The Sheriff remarked with disgust. He sighed, and looked upon his lady standing there, in the burgundy velvet gown that perfectly hugged her curves. "But I can think of other more amusing sport than that, which would hold my interest more than a sermon on a Sunday morning." He added with a smirk.

Rhiannon smiled weakly. Normally, what he just said would've made her want to forget mass entirely and tease the Sheriff into showing her what he meant by that. She sighed. She hoped Mortianna would come through for her soon.

"Yes." She said. "So, will we have to attend mass next week too?" She asked.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I think we had better." The Sheriff said. If, I'm back in Nottingham by then, he thought.

"That's too bad." Rhiannon said grabbing his attention.

"Why is that, my lady?" He asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Rhiannon said as she walked over toward the basin on the table under the mirror and began to splash water on her face. "Because, if we didn't attend mass next week…" She said as she grabbed a towel and began to dry her face. "Then you could've shown me this other – more amusing sport you had in mind." She said.

The Sheriff smiled and walked toward her. She was facing the mirror. He came behind her and put his arms around her, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

"There's the Rhiannon I know." He said. "My spirited, sensual….Rhiannon." He smiled.

She smiled at him as she watched him in the mirror. "You make me that way." She said. Then she looked away again but she tried to be subtle about it. It was very difficult to look at him now. Now that he knew.

"You're trembling, my lady." The Sheriff noted.

"Yes, my love." She said. "I'm cold."

"Come." He said. She turned around and took his hand. He led her to the bed. "Rest awhile, my angel." The Sheriff said.

She laid upon the bed. His heavy cloak was nearby. He picked up the fur trimmed robe and gently covered her with it.

"Sleep, my love." The Sheriff said. "I'll come back to wake you soon for mass."

"George?" She said, suddenly looking at him.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me." She said.

He leaned down and pressed his perfectly shaped mouth against hers. The soft hairs of his moustache and beard tickled her skin. He pried her lips open and touched his tongue to hers. His kiss was soft, gentle, and warm. She would never get tired of him. She wanted more, but she wasn't prepared to give it to him right now. Not until the ugly memory of her attack was gone forever from her mind.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later they were seated with Guy and Lady Meridwyn in the front row of the cathedral. The Bishop was just finishing with his parting words. The Sheriff was glad when it was over. He was only there for political reasons. He genuflected when they all said 'Amen', but the act was shallow and devoid of meaning.

They arose from their seats. The Sheriff told Guy he wished to speak with him. Their ladies informed them they would see them later, and so they parted ways for a brief time.

Ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn were strolling together through the foyer when Rhiannon accidentally made contact with a maiden she was unfamiliar with. The woman was medium height, with a slender frame. She had long, tight auburn ringlets, and large almond shaped, brown eyes. She was wearing an unattractive olive green gown, trimmed in delicate bright yellow ribbons.

"Excuse me." Rhiannon commented.

"My lady. Forgive me." The woman said. She squinted her eyes as she regarded her a moment. "Didn't I just see you with the Sheriff of Nottingham?" She asked, curiously.

"Yes, I believe you did." Rhiannon replied.

"You'll be seeing a lot of her with the Sheriff." Meridwyn added as she pushed her shiny, curly red hair from her face.

"Really?" The woman asked, curiously.

"Indeed." Meridwyn said.

"Why do you ask?" Rhiannon asked her. "Do you know my betrothed?"

"Betrothed?" The maiden blurted. A giggle escaped her lips. "My. How surprising?"

"Do I know you, Madam? For you surely seem familiar with my Lord." Rhiannon demanded.

"No. I don't believe you do." She answered evasively. "I pity you…marrying a man like that." She added.

"Mind your tongue! Or I'll see that you lose your tongue!" Rhiannon warned. "You insult my betrothed…and your Sheriff."

"Huh! I don't live here…thanks be to God." The woman said. She cleared her throat before she continued. "Listen, I mean well. I only tell you because I managed to escape his control. I know what I speak of. You'll find I'm quite serious." She said confidently.

"Oh, really? Then why are you wearing that gown?" Meridwyn taunted sarcastically. She grabbed a hold of Rhiannon's arm. "Come on, honey. We don't need to listen to this rubbish!" Meridwyn said she attempted to lead her away.

"No." Rhiannon said. "Wait, Meridwyn. I want to know who it is I'm dealing with." Rhiannon said. She turned back to face the impertinent woman.

"You will tell me your name." Rhiannon demanded as she stepped closer to her.

The woman fixed her dark eyes upon Rhiannon. She noted the lady engaged to be married to the Sheriff was beautiful. It was difficult to imagine a woman of such beauty willingly wishing to give herself to such a vile man.

"Tell me your name!" Rhiannon barked.

"It is Lady Marian." The woman replied. "My… aren't you a perfect match for him? Lacking in gentility. Just like…him."

"You have no right to hurl your insults. We have never even met before today." Rhiannon seethed.

"I was wrong, my lady. I thought you should be warned about him, But I was clearly mistaken." A beat. "Alas, you're perfect for one another." Lady Marian said.

"Stay away from me!" Rhiannon warned. She turned and walked with Lady Meridwyn, away from the woman.

"Do you know that woman, Meridwyn?" Rhiannon asked.

"All I know is that she was once Lady to Robin of Locksley. They were together when Will was courting me." Meridwyn replied.

"Really?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. I don't think she remembered me, though. When I was with Will, he hated Robin. I never heard about her being so insufferable, though. I guess she's still angry about what happened to him." Meridwyn commented.

"Yes. It seems there's a number of people angry at my Lord. As long as they leave me out of it!"

"Indeed." Meridwyn said.

They walked a little further, then Meridwyn stopped and put her hand out on the wall beside her. She bent her head down towards the floor.

"Meridwyn? Are you quite yourself?" Rhiannon asked.

"I don't know. It's very warm in here." Meridwyn said as she fanned herself with her hands. "I feel very strange. I think I need some air."

"Come, Meridwyn." Rhiannon said as she led her into the courtyard.

The air was cooler than the days leading up to it. Meridwyn was glad because she was sure she would faint. Rhiannon led her over to a stone bench where they sat together.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Rhiannon asked again.

"I'm not sure." Meridwyn said. "I've been feeling rather oddly for a few days. It's probably nothing."

"Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said. "Just take some breaths. The air should make you feel better."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Their men were twenty yards away from them, though they did not notice their ladies seated on the bench right away.

"One more day, Guy." The Sheriff said. "One more day for you and your men to continue the search, then I'm calling it off. Because tomorrow – we're going after this sick bastard!" The Sheriff hissed, his jaw tightly clenched.

"Very well." Guy agreed.

"There will be no bringing him back to the dungeon. No toying with him, expecting him to cooperate during interrogation." The Sheriff said. "This time, he gets what's coming to him…the second I get my hands on him!" The Sheriff exclaimed as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Guy saw the fury in the Sheriff's eyes. Something had changed. He didn't know what it was. But for some reason the Sheriff was indicating that his vengeance was now personal. Guy was curious but didn't think it was appropriate to ask. Besides, he could sense the mania coming from the Sheriff which only ever occurred when he was enraged nearly to the point of madness. What had changed?

"We are heading north to find the maid of Nottingham. We rescue her, and then we kill that monster!" The Sheriff shouted.

"Cousin?" Guy asked, curiously.

The Sheriff ignored him. He began to snarl. "No!" He said, his eyes narrowed in malice. "Not _**we**_. _**I**_ will kill him. Don't you lay a hand on him. Touch him – I swear I'll cut your hand off!" The Sheriff warned. "That sick monster is all mine! And damn…it's going to be the most glorious feeling. The most victorious killing I've ever carried out." The Sheriff rambled absently.

"Cousin? What's going on? You seem rather…passionate about this all of a sudden?" Guy prodded.

The Sheriff looked up. He'd said too much. As much as he wanted to share this with Guy, he couldn't. He couldn't do that to Rhiannon.

"I'm just tired of him, that's all!" The Sheriff spat. "He held my lady in captivity for months. He kidnapped my child! He captured your lady too! Now he has another maid from my county and I'll be damned if I'll sit by and let the bastard slip through my fingers again. It's over! His time is done!" The Sheriff snarled.

"Fine." Guy said. "When do you wish to depart?"

"By midday. We may have a lot of ground to cover." The Sheriff said. Suddenly, he noticed them beyond Guy's shoulder. He squinted his eyes.

"Why does Lady Meridwyn have her head in her lap, cousin?" The Sheriff asked.

Guy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously as the Sheriff indicated behind him at the Ladies Meridwyn and Rhiannon seated on one of the benches. Rhiannon was seated beside Meridwyn. She had her arm around her and was appearing to be talking to her. Lady Meridwyn was leaned forward with her head upon her knees.

"Something is wrong." Guy remarked. The men made their way over to where they were seated.

Rhiannon looked up at them and shrugged.

"My lady?" Guy called to her.

Meridwyn slowly raised her head. Her face was very pale. Drained of all colour. There was perspiration beading on her skin.

"Oh, Meridwyn! What's happened, my love? You're as white as a sheet!" Guy expressed his concern as he knelt down in front of her.

"I do not know, dearest." Meridwyn said. "I feel like I shall faint. But you know that is not like me?"

"Perhaps you need some nourishment?" He suggested.

"Oh, no. Do not mention food!" Meridwyn exclaimed suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand.

The Sheriff eyed her curiously. Rhiannon stood up and took her place beside him.

"Shall I send for Thomas, Guy?" The Sheriff asked his cousin.

"Perhaps that would be a good…" Guy began to say, he was cut off.

"No. I shall be fine. It will pass." Meridwyn said. "It always does…" She added absently.

"What? How long has this been going on?" Guy asked her.

"I'm not sure, my love. Perhaps a week?" Meridwyn tried to recall.

Guy looked at his cousin. "Yes. I think Thomas Crumwell should examine her." Guy said.

"Very well." The Sheriff agreed.

The Sheriff and his lady walked back toward the castle. The page was sent to summon Thomas Crumwell. Lady Meridwyn took to her bed and the physician came to see her just before dusk. Later, the Sheriff received news from Guy that Lady Meridwyn was still feeling weak and was resting. There was no cause for concern, however, and he would discuss the matter with him on the morrow.

Later that night, when Rhiannon was resting, the Sheriff was seated alone in the den beside the fire thinking about killing the man who harmed his lady. As he took a sip from his goblet of the tincture of rapture, the bell pealed. Once again, he jumped and spilled some of the brandy.

He took the goblet with him and made his way down the stone circular stairs that led down into Mortianna's lair.

"You rang, Madam?" The Sheriff asked upon greeting her.

"Come, my child. We need to have a talk." Mortianna said as she extended her hand out to him, beckoning for him to come closer.

His left eyebrow shot north as he eyed her curiously. "Another warning?" He asked as he followed her lead.

"No. We need to talk about Lady Rhiannon." Mortianna said.

"What of her?" The Sheriff demanded.

"She came to see me this morning." Mortianna announced. Suddenly, the Sheriff remembered. What was it Rhiannon said? Oh, yes. They had shared a cup of batwing tea. He sighed.

"What about?" The Sheriff asked pointedly.

"She asked me to take care of something for her. She wants me to make her a potion what will erase a memory."

"Did she tell you what the memory was?" The Sheriff asked. He knew exactly what it was she did not wish to remember. But did Mortianna know?

"No. She couldn't speak of it. So I asked her to drink her tea. She did so, and it was then when I looked into the cup…I saw it." Mortianna whispered. She shuddered.

"Madam, I do not wish to know anything about it. It doesn't do me nor my lady any good to know. But, I do need to know one thing. If you can tell me that is…" The Sheriff said.

"What is that, my Lord?" Mortianna asked.

"Exactly when during her period of captivity did this event occur?" The Sheriff asked. For, he could still hear the words of the murderous insect taunting him about the child's paternity.

Mortianna figured it out straightway. "It happened only once…right before the child was delivered. The child is yours, my Lord. It was he who caused the difficulty with the lady's labour, but he is _**not**_ the reason she was with child."

The Sheriff sighed. He was relieved to know that much.

"Well, tell me more about her wishes. And do you have a means available to achieve this for her?" The Sheriff asked.

"She wishes to blot the memory out completely because she cannot forgive herself. She says she can't look at you, nor even look upon her own reflection. She is consumed with guilt." Mortianna remarked.

"I know. It's ludicrous. She has no reason to feel guilt!" The Sheriff said shaking his head.

"She is tormented, my Lord."

"Yes. I know that. Can you help her?"

"Not without talking to you about it first." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"There is a plant that will work the best at achieving the result the lady is searching for. But it is one that requires careful consideration and planning." She said.

"Why is that?" the Sheriff demanded. "Which plant do you refer to?"

"Thorn apple seed." Mortianna announced.

"Yes. I've heard of it. It has many uses, doesn't it? I think I've also heard of it called jimsonweed." The Sheriff said.

"Yes. You are correct. I will need to be careful with the quantity." Mortianna replied.

"How powerful is it?" The Sheriff asked.

"It is highly effective for erasing one's memory. But one needs to be careful with it." Mortianna pointed out. "If the quantity is too much, it can be poisonous. She could begin to see and hear things that are not there. She could become confused and combative. In some cases people have been known to enter into a very long slumber. And…" Her words began to trail off.

The Sheriff sighed. "And…what, Mortianna?"

"There have been few instances of death." Mortianna said solemnly.

The Sheriff shook his head. "There is nothing else that would work?"

"Not as effectively as thorn apple seed." Mortianna said. "I did not wish to agree to this before speaking to you."

"I'm glad you did." The Sheriff said.

"What would you have me do, my Lord?" Mortianna asked.

"I can't answer. Not until you tell me more of what my lady said to you about it. Does she know the risks?" The Sheriff asked as he took a sip of his brandy to calm him a little.

"Yes. I told her almost everything I just told you."

"And? What did she say to that?" He asked.

"That she was willing to take whatever risks necessary. She says she wishes to please you. And she doesn't think she can do that, nor live with herself, until the memory is erased." Mortianna confessed.

"How can I make this decision, Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked as he began to pace. "It's important to her, I know. I do not wish for my lady to live in torment with this, but I do not wish to risk losing her over it either!"

"Indeed." Mortianna agreed.

"Can you make it very mild? Perhaps by tricking her into believing it will work – it just might?" The Sheriff mused.

"Yes, I can try." Mortianna said.

"Good." The Sheriff said. "I'm trusting you to watch over her. I have to begin on a journey tomorrow." The Sheriff announced.

"As you wish, my Lord." Mortianna said. "You're going after your former prisoner?"

"Yes. He has taken a maid of Nottingham. I need to rescue her. But I do not know exactly where to find them." The Sheriff muttered in chagrin.

"I do." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff looked over at her, his eyebrow raised curiously.

"I've already seen it. It was mixed in with the vision that came to me when I looked into your lady's cup." Mortianna began.

"Where is he?" The Sheriff demanded.

"He holds the maid of Nottingham in the same cabin where you found the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn held captive in recently." Mortianna said.

"You're certain?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Mortianna replied.

"Good." The Sheriff said. "That cabin is not that far away." Maybe I will be back by next Sunday, he thought. But would the potion have worked on her by then?

"Mortianna?" The Sheriff said.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I'm trusting you with my lady while I am gone. Whatever it is you're concocting, I want it weak!" The Sheriff instructed.

"Indeed, my Lord. I shall begin formulating the potion on the morrow." Mortianna said.


	41. Chapter 41

Early Monday morning the Sheriff was holding his lady next to him in his bed. She knew he had to leave this day, he told her about it the day before.

"Must you leave?" Rhiannon whispered as she nestled against his smooth chest.

The Sheriff kissed the top of her head. "Yes, my angel. There is a maid missing from my county. She is in danger, as you once were. I must find her." He said.

Rhiannon sighed. "I know. I just grow tired of having to say goodbye to you." She kissed his chest. He stroked her silky sable coloured hair.

"Then let's make a pact never to say goodbye, my lady." The Sheriff whispered.

She smiled and raised her head to look at him. He looked at her curiously, for she had barely looked at him ever since she remembered her attack. It was killing him that she couldn't look at him. Finally, her face was facing his but her eyes were looking down. Slowly, she lifted her eyes. She managed to look at him only for a few seconds, then she lost her courage and looked away. She put her head on his shoulder.

"Forgive me, my Lord." She said.

"It's okay, my lady. I can't begin to imagine what's going through your mind. But everything will sort itself out…in time." He said.

"Yes, my Lord. I'm sure it will." Rhiannon said. She hoped Mortianna was working on the potion. Though, she never did agree to it. She would have to speak to Mortianna later, after her lover left on his journey.

"I won't be gone long, my lady. I don't need to venture very far this time." The Sheriff said.

"I'm relieved to hear that." Rhiannon said. "I shall feel better when you've returned to me. And maybe then, I will be ready."

"Ready? For what?" The Sheriff asked.

"Ready to give you myself. To give you…all of me." She said quietly.

"When you're ready, my angel. I shall wait however long that it takes." He promised her.

"I know." She said. "I'm grateful for your patience." She sighed. "So, my prince…instead of saying goodbye, what are we going to say?"

The Sheriff smiled. He was beginning to like it when she called him _**that**_. "I don't know, my lady. How about: fare thee well?" He suggested.

"That sounds good. Or maybe: I'll be seeing you?" She said.

"Well, either one works for me." He smiled.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, the Sheriff was upon his black mare. He met with Guy near the stables.

"I'm surprised you didn't wish me to take one of the knights with me in your stead." The Sheriff remarked. "You sure you're up for this?" He asked.

"Yes, cousin. I'm ready." Guy said.

"But…Lady Meridwyn?" The Sheriff asked, curiously.

"She will be fine." Guy said.

They urged their horses along and rode them beside each other.

"You wish to tell me about it?" The Sheriff asked as he looked over at Guy.

"My lady and I must set a date for our nuptials." Guy remarked.

"I don't think I ever did congratulate you, cousin." The Sheriff said.

"Yes." Guy said. "Everything is moving so…fast."

The Sheriff regarded him with a puzzled expression. "You must be jesting. You call _**that**_ fast? You've been courting her for years!" The Sheriff chortled.

"It does feel like things are moving along rather – quickly, cousin." Guy said.

"Why is that?" The Sheriff asked.

"Because….my lady is with child." Guy announced.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow raised as Guy continued.

"You're the only one who knows, besides the physician. Though, my Lady does wish for Lady Margaret to be involved in her care. And, I'm sure your lady will be hearing about it." Guy said.

"She is with child?" The Sheriff remarked, surprised. "Is that what that was all about?"

"Yes. The child should be arriving sometime in the spring." Guy replied. They found a main road that led out of Nottingham and continued along.

"The castle shall be full of life, cousin!" The Sheriff said.

"Yes, indeed." Guy said.

"Are you sure that's all there is to it though, cousin?" The Sheriff asked, concerned. "Lady Meridwyn looked quite unwell yesterday."

"Yes. Apparently carrying a baby can do that to maidens." Guy shook his head.

The Sheriff shook his head and narrowed his eyes. He wasn't with Rhiannon during her confinement. She was taken before she even knew she was with child. Did Lady Rhiannon go through this?

"But…she was as white as the driven snow!?" The Sheriff exclaimed.

"Yes. Thomas Crumwell tells me that in the beginning months, it is common for maidens to experience fainting spells, dizziness, and be unable to hold down food."

"What?" The Sheriff asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "That makes no sense, cousin. If that is the case, and the ladies cannot hold down food, then how does the child indeed…grow?"

"It is one of the mysteries of the universe I'm sure, cousin." Guy quipped.

"I can't quite believe it." The Sheriff said quietly.

"What's that, sire?" That I shall be a father?" Guy asked. Funny, Guy thought, I can't believe it either.

"No. That is not it. It's just that, it's amazing. Last year, all I had was you. Now, I will have a wife, a child of my own once the child is safely returned, and I shall also be a…uncle." The Sheriff remarked.

"Well, not really an uncle, cousin." Guy pointed out.

"Guy, it is time you get used to the fact that you were not granted a brother. Instead you were granted me. I might as well be your brother. Who the hell else have you got?" The Sheriff said.

"True." Guy agreed. "Then I guess…I shall be an uncle as well. We just have to wait." He sighed.

"Yes. The wait is the worst part about the whole damned thing!" The Sheriff growled. "I do wish I had been present when my lady brought forth our child. Even just to be a few rooms away, would have been better than being hundreds of miles away." The Sheriff lamented. He shook his head. "I really don't know how she did it, cousin. She delivered that child all alone. She is a survivor." He added proudly.

"Indeed, cousin." Guy said. "She is quite the lady."

The Sheriff was pleased for Guy but his reaction was tainted in sadness. The longer it took to find his child, the more he was missing of the infant's important moments. He was missing the growth of his own child.

"You'll be there for your child…right from the beginning." The Sheriff said.

"I'm sure your child will be arriving home soon, cousin. Your proclamations will help. Did you check on the progress of them" Guy asked.

"Yes." The Sheriff began. "The artists, Michael and Colin are very good. I stopped by the Council Quarters this morning. I already saw one completed copy. It is excellent. It is exact. I gave permission for copies identical to the first proclamation to be issued to heralds for distribution. The Scribe is going to check them all to make sure they're the same as the one I approved. They should be ready in a day or two, though the artists are working day and night to accomplish it." The Sheriff said.

"Do you care what the child is?" Guy asked him pointedly.

"No. Whether a son or a daughter I shall just be glad to have the child with me and my lady. It makes no difference to me. Except for one thing." The Sheriff raised his eyebrow. "This has gone on long enough!" He huffed.

"I should like a daughter, I think." Guy remarked. "I can picture her in my minds eye. She'll have beautiful red curly hair, and eyes like my lady. Blue as a summer sky. I fancy myself spoiling a little lass a little too much." Guy smiled.

The Sheriff grinned. "Look at you. You're like a young lad whose just been given a shiny new toy to amuse himself with!"

"Yes. I suppose I am eager to meet my child." Guy said. "Except that…" his words trailed off.

"Except – what, cousin?"

"Except that, I am quite nervous about it. It is a great responsibility."

"You'll get used to it. Even though I haven't laid eyes upon my child, I have a compelling need to protect him or her. It will come to you, cousin. It is innate. Instinct will take over." The Sheriff said confidently.

"I hope you are right." Guy sighed.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lady Rebeccah heard a light tapping on the door to the manor, so she went there to open it. Lady Marian stood there before her.

"Lady Marian!" Rebeccah greeted her. "Please, come in."

Lady Marian picked up her skirts as she stepped up to enter into the manor.

"It seems you've been minding this estate for awhile." Lady Marian commented. "You may as well own it."

"Yes, well, duty dictates I must remain here for now. I do thank you for agreeing to come to see me." Rebeccah said.

"Indeed." Marian said. "I shall not be in Nottingham long, so I didn't want to miss the opportunity. It's been so long since we last spoke." She smiled.

"Indeed." Rebeccah smiled. She gestured to a soft couch in the sitting room, motioning for Lady Marian to make herself comfortable. Lady Marian took a seat and arranged her skirts neatly about her as Lady Rebeccah excused herself to gather the tea.

Within minutes, Lady Rebeccah returned with a tray that held two cups. She held the tray out in front of Lady Marian. Lady Marian took the cup nearest to her, then brought it to her lips and sipped on it.

"So, where is this lady of the manor?" Lady Marian asked as she paused to look around the expanse of the room.

"She is not here." Rebeccah replied as she seated herself on an ornate wooden chair directly in front of Lady Marian.

"Yes. Indeed. For some time – you've mentioned in your letters." Lady Marian remarked.

"Yes. Well, it's a very long story, my lady." Lady Rebeccah hinted as she took a sip of tea from her cup.

Lady Marian regarded her curiously, imploring her to continue.

"My lady was taken. Almost a year ago you see." Rebeccah began. "She was not found until three months ago. Alas, she was quite unwell, so her betrothed insisted she be cared for in his castle. She's been there ever since." Lady Rebeccah explained.

Lady Marian shot her head up abruptly. "Castle? Who is this lady of the manor? And…who is her betrothed?" Marian pried.

"She is Lady Rhiannon Wordsworth. She is betrothed to the Sheriff of Nottingham." Lady Rebeccah announced.

Lady Marian coughed, for she suddenly found herself mildly choking on her tea. "She is to marry the Sheriff?" Lady Marian asked. She suddenly recalled meeting the green eyed lady the day before. More like the green eyed witch!

"Indeed. She is. My lady Marian, he has changed." Rebeccah said.

"Huh! I find it hard to believe a cold, heartless man such as he could possibly have changed!" Lady Marian scowled.

"He has, my lady. You wouldn't believe it. He's almost entirely a very different man. He is very good to my lady. I don't believe she could do any better." Rebeccah remarked.

"You must be jesting, Rebeccah." Lady Marian said, rolling her eyes. "Do _**not**_ forget, for I shall always remind you, the Sheriff killed my Robin – the one man who could've healed this land!"

"Forgive me, my lady. I mean no disrespect. I merely thought you should be warned, for no doubt you shall run into him. And when you do, you may be quite surprised. For, the change in him is unmistakable." Rebeccah said.

"You're forgiven, Rebeccah. But do not expect me to be so easily lured by the charms of the Sheriff. He killed Robin. I shall never forgive him for that. Never mind what he did to _**me**_ before he killed my lover!" Lady Marian seethed.

"Indeed." Rebeccah said.

"So, you're telling me that Lady Rhiannon is staying at Nottingham Castle?" Lady Marian prodded.

"Yes, my lady. She is." Rebeccah replied, wondering why they were continuing with the same topic if Lady Marian hated the Sheriff so much?

"Hmm. Interesting." Marian remarked absently as she sipped her tea.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just that she's staying there, and they're not even married yet. A rather interesting arrangement. Rather like a…courtesan." Lady Marian lied. For, that was not the reason her interest was piqued. Though, she did agree with the impropriety of it.

"As I said, my lady was very ill. My Lord Sheriff arranged for the best care for her there at the castle. It was the best decision for her. I'm glad he made it." Rebeccah commented.

"Yes." Lady Marian remarked absently.

"So, what brings thee here to Nottingham, my lady? For, you've been away in London for a rather long time." Lady Rebeccah asked.

"Oh…I just have a few loose ends I need to tie up." Lady Marian replied. And you've just made things rather convenient for me, she thought.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the afternoon, Rhiannon went to visit Lady Meridwyn in the Lieutenants private chambers.

She was shown in by Lady Margaret. Lady Meridwyn was seated upon the bed propped by several pillows.

"My friend! Come in. I have news." Lady Meridwyn said.

"What is it, Meridwyn?" Rhiannon asked as she walked toward her then sat upon the bed beside her. "How are you now? I've been worried about you." Rhiannon said as she reached over to touch Meridwyn's forehead with her palm, checking for the presence of fever.

"I'm still rather dizzy, but at least I know why." Lady Meridwyn smiled.

"Why?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

Meridwyn grabbed both of her hands with hers. "Rhiannon, didn't you say that when we are both married, then we shall be like sisters?"

"Well, yes. But if you remember, dear friend, it was you who pointed out when we first met, that your man and mine are very much like brothers." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed."

"Well, what has that have anything to do with your malaise?" Rhiannon asked, puzzled.

"You told me you have no family." Meridwyn said.

"Indeed, Meridwyn. You're confusing me, though."

"You shall have family now." Meridwyn said.

"Of course I will." Lady Rhiannon said. "You are going to marry Guy of Gisborne. And I'm marrying his cousin. We shall finally be sisters!"

"And you shall be an aunt." Meridwyn said calmly.

Lady Rhiannon widened her eyes and slowly opened her mouth. A smile spread across her face. "What?" She exclaimed. "You are with child?"

"Yes, my dear. I am." Meridwyn smiled.

"A child! How delightful!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Indeed. Neither of us can quite believe it. Guy says we shall schedule our nuptials as soon as he arrives home. He would like us to be wed well in advance of the baby's arrival." Meridwyn stated.

"Indeed. And when is the baby due to arrive?"

"In the spring some time." Lady Meridwyn said.

"Do you think he is pleased?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

Lady Meridwyn sighed. "He was a little shocked, but yes, he was pleased." Meridwyn smiled. "He tells me he hopes for a daughter. Isn't that remarkable?"

"Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said. She suddenly had an idea. "You know, Meridwyn, I need to visit Madam Oberon again. I never did choose the fabric for my gown, or allow her to measure me for it. We should go. You're going to be needing a gown too." She suggested.

"I'd feel strange about it, Rhiannon. Guy and I haven't even decided on a date yet." Lady Meridwyn said.

"Well, come with me. It wouldn't hurt you to look around. It might do you some good to get some air as well."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Lady Margaret and the good physician better not expect me to be locked away in here for my entire confinement. That is just not going to happen." Meridwyn said rolling her eyes.

"How about tomorrow?" Rhiannon suggested.

"That sounds divine." Meridwyn remarked. "Just give me a little time. I'll send word when I'm up for this. Sometimes I don't do very well in the mornings." She sighed.

In the afternoon, Luke was passing by the Sheriff's stables on his way to his post at the castle gates. He saw the Sheriff's lady walking towards the stables, and decided to formally introduce himself.

"Excuse me, my lady." Luke said as he strode toward Lady Rhiannon. Rhiannon stopped. Her shiny sable brown hair gleamed in the light. Her green eyes twinkled.

"I'm the newest of the Sheriff's Black Knights. Master Luke - at your service, my lady." Luke said smiling.

"How do you do. I am Lady Rhiannon." She smiled. "The Sheriff has spoken of you. It seems you have impressed him."

"That may be, my lady. But I am grateful for this opportunity to work for him. It gives me purpose. A very noble one, indeed." Luke said.

"Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said. It was refreshing to hear someone speak highly of her lover for once.

"If there is anything you need, please allow me to be of service, my lady." Luke said.

"Thank you, Luke. I shall keep that in mind." Rhiannon said smiling.

They parted ways. Lady Rhiannon wandered into the stables to see that her mare was adjusting well to her new home. Luke continued to the castle gates to his post. As he went to join Drake and Adam, he noticed a pretty yet unfamiliar maiden outside of the portcullis. She was slender with very curly long, dark red hair. She stood outside of the gates peering in, staring it seemed, at Lady Rhiannon.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the evening, Lady Rhiannon was pacing. She was restless. Her lover was now miles away from her. And Lady Meridwyn was feeling too unwell for company. She knew she would rest better if she had the answer she was seeking. She drew in a sigh and opened the heavy oak door that led down into Mortianna's lair.

Mortianna heard her coming. Luckily she was prepared. She had a large blanket nearby for such an emergency. She picked it up and quickly went to the table. She draped it over the large table which was in the center of the apothecary and near to the fire where a cauldron was brewing. She laid the blanket gently over the plants she had gathered. Careful not to damage the delicate white and violet coloured funnel shaped flowers. Task completed, she strode over to the foot of the stairs.

"My child. You've returned?" Mortianna said.

"Yes, madam. I'm rather anxious for your reply. You never did answer me. Will you do this for me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, my child. I believe I can help you." Mortianna reassured.

"I can smell something odd. Are you working on it now, dear lady?" Rhiannon asked as she picked up her skirts and walked closer to the table that a blanket lay upon. It appeared to be hiding something.

"Yes, I am. But that is all you need to know." Mortianna replied as she hurried past Rhiannon and stood before the table facing Rhiannon, blocking her from touching it.

"Okay, fine." Rhiannon relented as she stood before her with her hands on her hips. "When will it be ready, then?"

"On the morrow." Mortianna announced.

"Good. How is it taken?" Rhiannon asked, curious.

"You will drink it. It will be mixed with ale." Mortianna said.

"Must it be ale?" Rhiannon wrinkled her nose in revulsion at the thought of it.

"Yes. It mixes best with ale." Mortianna said. For, she had dusted off an old book of shadows where the jimsonweed was mentioned. She guessed she studied it for the possibility of using its magic in the future. She couldn't recall working with it before now.

"Oh, that's splendid. I'll come by and pick it up tomorrow when it's ready. How will I know when it's ready?" Rhiannon asked.

"No. You will not pick it up to take with you." Mortianna directed.

"What?"

"You drink this potion in my presence." Mortianna commanded. "You shall be given _**no **_opportunity to hoard this."

"But…Mortianna?"

"I told you, this is a dangerous seed." Mortianna said. "You will be summoned here, and I will give it to you. And then you will drink it here in my apothecary."

"Very well." Rhiannon relented. "Just one measure of it? Is that all it will take?" She inquired.

"No. I think it would be safer if the quantities were divided and taken at twenty four hour intervals over time." Mortianna mused.

"Every day I shall have to do this? For how long?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well, let's just see how it goes for now, my child. It may take up to a fortnight, but it may not. This is all new to me too." Mortianna sighed. "I'm being very cautious with the recipe and the administration of it. I must be that way. You are lady to my master. And besides, there's the witch's rede: An ye harm none…." Mortianna added.

"Yes." Rhiannon said. She knew she should really be afraid of the woman. Instead, Rhiannon had always found the diminutive crone rather fascinating. "I trust your judgement." She smiled.

"Good." Mortianna replied.

"But, when will I know when it's ready?" Rhiannon asked.

"Listen for the soft bell in the den. You will see it there on the wall if you look for it. I shall ring the bell to signal for you when it is time." Mortianna instructed.

"Thank you, wise lady." Rhiannon smiled.

"It should be ready in the morning. And remember: you will drink of it here." Mortianna reminded her.

Rhiannon nodded. Mortianna's intent to warn her of the danger of the potion was pure, but really it was the worst thing she could've said. Because now, she had just given Rhiannon fair warning. It was up to Rhiannon what she would do with that information. She could either heed the advice. Or form a plan. She smiled at Mortianna as she turned to leave. She picked up her butter yellow silk skirts and started up the stairs into the den. She glided into the private chamber and walked toward her trunk.

She had articles of clothing and various other trinkets inside. She found the vial she was searching for. It was a small glass vial that she once used to hold smelling salts. Occasionally, after receiving the news that her brother Robert had died, having already suffered the loss of Eddie, she was so bereft that she would sometimes need it. She had already washed the vial once, but decided she would do it again. She would take this vial with her in her skirt pocket when Mortianna summoned her. It was small and would hold approximately two ounces. Yes. She could easily conceal this. She smiled with satisfaction. She needed this to work and work fast. If she could take a little of the potion back with her each day, she could pour from the small vial into a larger flask to have her own supply.

Still, she would be careful with it. Mortianna had cautioned her more than once about it. Yes, she could be responsible with it.

And that is what she thought. Sadly, she was gravely mistaken.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shortly after dawn on Tuesday, the Scribe was summoned by the page to the Council Quarters. The report was that the two artists had completed the final proclamations. He dressed hurriedly and scurried there to examine them on behalf of the Sheriff.

Masters Michael and Colin stood there at the table when the Scribe entered the room with the page.

"They are finished?" The Scribe asked.

"Yes." Michael said. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his brown eyes. As the Scribe scanned the men, he noted both of their eyes were bloodshot, and their fingers were stained in coal and ink.

Michael picked up one of the proclamations and handed it to the Scribe.

The Scribe took it, picked up his lens and held it to his eye to examine it.

"It is exact. Just like the one you showed the Sheriff yesterday morning. Are they all like this?"

"Yes." Master Colin said. He picked up the lot of them and handed them over for approval.

The Scribe took them and scanned over the pages. They were all alike. He was pleased.

"Splendid. My Lord Sheriff would be pleased." He turned to the page who was standing beside him. "Issue these documents to the heralds for distribution."

"Indeed, sir." The page said as he took them then left to carry out the task.

The Scribe turned back to face the two artists. "The Sheriff left your payment. I brought it with me." He extracted two small black velvet pouches each tied with a drawstring, from his pockets, and gave one to each of the men. "Fifty gold pieces. I trust that will be satisfactory?" The Scribe said.

"Indeed." Michael said. "And do tell the Sheriff we are always glad to be of assistance should the need arise."

The Scribe nodded and the two artists went on their way.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Rhiannon had just finished dressing. She was wearing a pale orange gown trimmed in delicate white ribbons, with white organza sleeves. She was ready to visit the home of Madam Oberon with Lady Meridwyn. Meridwyn would send word when she was feeling well enough. In the meantime, she went over to the table beside the bed. She picked up the small vial she had waiting there and placed it in her gown pocket. As she did so, she heard the soft sound of the bell. A tiny sound, yet it was present.

She walked into the den. She looked to the wall opposite of the fireplace. She saw it there on the wall. It rang again. She went toward the heavy oak door and opened it. Is this how the witch summoned the Sheriff?

Mortianna greeted her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Come, my child. It is ready." Mortianna announced.

"Good." Rhiannon said. "I am eager to begin."

Mortianna brought a small bowl and a vial over to the table. She placed them there and motioned for Rhiannon to come to the table. Rhiannon did so and took a seat. Mortianna picked up a wooden stick that was upon the table and began to stir the mixture in the bowl one more time. Then she carefully poured from the bowl, a small amount into the vial. She put the bowl back on the table and gave the vial to Rhiannon.

"This is the magic you seek." Mortianna said as she held it out to her. "Drink. Drink all from this vial."

Rhiannon took it and put the vial to her lips. She drank it quickly and she was glad, for the taste was very bitter.

"Oh, this is vile!" Rhiannon exclaimed in disgust.

"Yes. I'll get you some ale to wash it down." Mortianna suggested. Just then, the greenish yellow haze in the apothecary seemed to grow very thick. There was a cauldron brewing on the fire, boiling out of control.

"Curses!" Mortianna spat as she arose quickly and glided over to the fire to tend to the burning potion in her cauldron.

Rhiannon glanced at the bowl on the table. She looked over at Mortianna. Her back was turned. She quickly grabbed the vial she brought with her in her gown pocket, unscrewed the cap, and poured some of the mixture from the bowl into it. She looked over again at Mortianna. She was still muttering curses under her breath as she was dealing with the bubbling mixture on the fire. Rhiannon quickly screwed the cap on the vial, then placed it back in her pocket. Just then, Mortianna turned around.

"If only there were a way to control the heat of the fire better when brewing things. If someone could invent that, it would indeed prove very useful!" Mortianna huffed in frustration.

"Indeed." Rhiannon commented.

Mortianna stirred the mixture while adding more water to it. Then she stepped away from it, satisfied she had it under control, and poured some ale from a metal pitcher into a cup and brought it to Lady Rhiannon. Rhiannon took it, grateful to replace the taste of the bitter potion, even though she did not like the taste of ale.

"I shall have another measure of potion to offer you on the morrow. Twenty four hours from hence. Listen for the bell." Mortianna instructed.

"Indeed, wise lady. Thank you." Lady Rhiannon said as she departed.

When she was back in the private chamber, she pulled the vial out of her gown pocket. She unscrewed the cap and poured the liquid into a larger flask which belonged to the Sheriff. She found it in the same place she'd found his dagger not that long ago, when she borrowed it for her journey north. At least it would be available to her should she need it.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, just as the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn were heading out on horses to visit Madam Oberon's home, the first proclamations began to appear along the outskirts of Nottingham.

Just a little north and along the path that led straight into Sherwood Forest, one of the proclamations was being nailed to a tree right next to the path. The parchment was quite large. In the center of it were two good sized drawings. Portraits of a man and a woman. The proclamation read:

PROCLAMATION:

This man and his wife

Charged with kidnapping.

(the two portraits were shown at this point. The man on the left, his lady on the right)

WANTED

ALIVE

For the sum of

10,000 gold pieces.

BY ORDER:

Nottingham

SHERIFF & CHIEF CONSTABLE.

Lady Rhiannon never saw any of the proclamations that day. Nor did she hear about the postings. It was a good thing. For, she would have been deeply troubled if her eyes caught a glimpse of them then.


	42. Chapter 42

The ladies had been riding for approximately twenty minutes when they came upon the familiar grey stone and wood manor. They secured their horses nearby and walked along the cobblestone path toward the front door of the manor. Lady Rhiannon used the large iron ring on the door to knock. Within moments the door opened and Madam Oberon stood before them smiling, wearing a linen gown in the colour of navy. She clapped her hands together, her soft blue eyes twinkled.

"Bonjour, mes amis! Come in sil vous plait." The pleasant woman exclaimed in her cheery sing song voice. "I must admit, I was not sure I would see you again, Mademoiselle Rhiannon." She said facing Rhiannon.

"I regret I was quite overcome the last time we spoke." Lady Rhiannon sighed.

"Je comprends." Madam Oberon said. "Las situation est desagreable. You would say…unpleasant."

"You can say that again, Madame." Lady Meridwyn remarked. "Sums it up nicely, I think. Situation unpleasant." She snorted.

Lady Rhiannon scowled at her friend. Meridwyn changed her expression. Rhiannon cleared her throat as she turned to face Madam Oberon.

"My Lord and I have decided upon a date for our wedding." She announced.

"Indeed? C'est bon!" Madam Oberon exclaimed. "And my dear, when shall you be wed?"

"September twenty sixth." Lady Rhiannon said. "Will that be enough time for you to create my gown?"

"Indeed." Madam Oberon replied. "Unless you specify you want a great deal of detail."

"No. Not too much. I want it simple, yet elegant. Classic, yet very alluring. For, I want to be unforgettable in the eyes of my groom. A vision he shall treasure forever." Rhiannon smiled. She was suddenly filled with excitement about her wedding. And suddenly warm at the very thought of him. How she missed him. And once this potion of Mortianna's started working, she could really show him just how much she missed him when she saw him again. Oh please let it work, she prayed.

"Je suis ravi de vous aider." Madam Oberon spoke in french, momentarily forgetting to check herself.

The ladies regarded her curiously.

"Forgive me, mes chers. I sometimes forget myself. What I said, Mademoiselle Rhiannon, is that – I am delighted to assist you." Madam Oberon smiled.

"I'm so pleased." Rhiannon smiled back. "For, I've already seen your work. It's beautiful."

"Merci, Mademoiselle. Now, mon cher, what did you have in mind?" Madam Oberon asked.

"Well, just what I've told you so far."

"Alas, je le vois dans ma tete." Madam Oberon commented. "Was there a particular fabric you had in mind?"

"No. Not really." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Je recommande mai…what about silk? I have lovely silk from the orient available." Madam Oberon suggested.

"Sounds grand. May I see it?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle. Come right this way." Madam Oberon led them into the room where the bolts of various fabrics and textiles were, along with a few completed gowns hanging along the walls. She took them to an area where an array of silks in various weights, thread counts, and a variety of hues were.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"La plus belle soie pour vous." Madam Oberon smiled.

"Pardon, Madam?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"Oui." Madam Oberon shook her head apologetically. "The finest silk for you, mon cher." Madam Oberon explained in english.

"I never knew white could come in so many hues?" Lady Meridwyn remarked.

"Indeed." Madam Oberon began as she narrowed her blue eyes to study her. "And if it were _**you**_ I was sewing a gown for, I'd choose one closer to ivory."

"Really?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"Oui, Mademoiselle. Fonctionne le mieux la couleur de votre peau." Madam Oberon blurted carelessly.

"Pardon, Madame?"

"The colour works best with your skin." Madam Oberon translated.

"That's interesting you mention it, Madam. Lady Meridwyn shall be needing a gown for her wedding as well." Lady Rhiannon pointed out.

"Indeed?" Madam Oberon remarked, smiling as she turned to Meridwyn.

"Oui, Madame." Lady Meridwyn said. "Alas, my betrothed and I have not scheduled a date as yet. But it will be soon."

"I shall be pleased to assist you both!" Madam Oberon smiled. Then she turned around to face Rhiannon.

"Now, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. Let's begin with you. Which of these do you fancy?" She asked as she pointed in the general direction at the myriad silks before her.

"I rather like this one." Lady Rhiannon said. She pointed to a bolt of fine silk that was white in colour, but closer to the colour of candlelight.

"C'est bon! A fine choice." Madam Oberon said. "Are you ready to be measured, Mademoiselle?" She asked.

"Well, I suppose so." Rhiannon said.

"Come." Madam Oberon commanded. She led her to a room next to the one they were in. "Go inside." She directed Rhiannon. "Remove your gown down to your chemise then come back out to see me."

"Must I? Remove my gown?" Rhiannon asked, slightly embarrassed.

"You won't be wearing your wedding gown over another gown, mon cher. You must remove it so I can obtain accurate measurements."

"Oh, yes. Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said. She went inside and closed the door.

Madam Oberon looked to Lady Meridwyn. "Excuse moi un moment. I will summon my daughter to assist me." She walked toward the door that led into the hall.

"Marie! Venir ici!" Madam Oberon called.

Moments later, Madam Oberon was back in the room. She had a measuring tape draped around her neck, and her daughter accompanied her. The girl was approximately fourteen. She was medium height, slender and fine boned like her mother, with curly blond hair, and eyes a soft misty blue. Rhiannon stepped out of the dressing room. Madam Oberon came forward.

"This is my daughter, Marie. She is going to write down the measurements for me as I call them out to her." Madam Oberon explained.

"Oh. Alright." Lady Rhiannon agreed.

"Bonjour." Marie said to the women. "Je suis Marie."

The ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn nodded their greeting and smiled.

"Now, mon cher. I need to take a series of measurements from you to fit your gown perfectly. Vous comprenez?" Madam Oberon asked.

"Yes, Madam. I understand. Where do we start?" Rhiannon asked.

"Raise your arms above your head." Madam Oberon instructed.

Rhiannon did so and Madam Oberon put the tape measure behind her back and brought it around to cinch it close around the fullest part of Lady Rhiannon's breasts. Just as Lady Rhiannon was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, Madam Oberon spoke.

"Trente six pouces." Madam Oberon said to Marie.

"Oui, ma mere, je me l'ecrire." Marie said as she wrote it on a tablet with chalk.

Lady Meridwyn looked over at the tablet, curiously. The writing read: 36 pouces. She guessed that pouces translated to inches.

Madam Oberon then took the tape measure and positioned one end at the top of one of Lady Rhiannon's shoulders, and measured the length to her waist.

"Dix-huit ans et demi pouces." Madam Oberon called to Marie.

"Oui." Marie said as she wrote it.

Now the seamstress took the measuring tape and held it around Lady Rhiannon's waist.

"Vingt cinq." Madam Oberon remarked.

Her daughter wrote it down dutifully.

Next, Madam Oberon took the tape measure and wrapped it around Lady Rhiannon's hips.

"Trente six." Madam Oberon said.

"Oui, ma mere." Young Marie said.

"Vous avez un corps fin a travailler avec." Madam Oberon murmured to herself.

"What's that, Madam?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"Ce n'est rien." Madam Oberon replied modestly. For, in her mind, Lady Rhiannon did not need to know that what Madam Oberon just said was: "You have a fine body to work with."

Then the dressmaker crouched down on one knee and took the long tape measure and held one end on the inside of Lady Rhiannon's thigh.

"What are you doing?" Lady Rhiannon asked looking down at her, rather startled.

"I need to take your inseam measurement, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. This determines the length of the gown itself. It mustn't be too short, and we mustn't have you tripping over your skirts." Madam Oberon explained.

"Oh. Very well. Continue, Madam." Rhiannon agreed.

The seamstress held one end of the tape measure against the top of Rhiannon's inner thigh, then she measured the length to Rhiannon's ankle. She looked to her daughter.

"Vingt sept pouces." Madam Oberon said. "Avez vous tout cela?" She asked her.

"Oui, ma mere." Marie replied.

"Bon." Madam Oberon said. Then she looked to Rhiannon as she stood up. "You may dress in your gown now, mon cher. I have everything I need to begin cutting."

"Yes, Madam." Lady Rhiannon said as she went back into the dressing room.

Madam Oberon turned to her daughter again. She wanted the measurements written down in ink on parchment so she would not lose them.

"Bonne fille, allez-vous ecrire que sur le parchemin pour moi?" She asked her daughter.

"Oui, maman, je vais commencer des maintenant." Marie replied. She took her writing tablet and exited the room to carry out the request.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Excuse moi." Madam Oberon said to Meridwyn as she went to answer the door. Rhiannon came back out of the dressing room just after the seamstress left the room.

"Isn't this exciting, Meridwyn?" She said to her friend.

"Yes." Meridwyn smiled. "Did you know your waist is twenty five inches?"

Rhiannon eyed her curiously. "No, I guess I didn't."

"Wait until you have a baby!" Meridwyn laughed.

Rhiannon began to giggle. It was the first she'd laughed since she remembered. She was glad to laugh. The ladies turned around when they heard footsteps behind them. Madam Oberon was there with the same woman Rhiannon bumped into two days ago in the cathedral foyer. The one who attempted to warn her of the Sheriff. It was Lady Marian.

Lady Meridwyn eyed Lady Marian up and down critically. Once again, she was wearing a most unappealing gown in hues of browns and yellows.

"Decided you needed a new wardrobe?" Meridwyn taunted. "What a relief! At least then it won't be your gowns that shall cause one to have a headache!" She laughed.

"Indeed." Lady Marian said, rolling her eyes.

"Mon dieu." Madam Oberon muttered under her breath.

"What are you doing? Following me?" Lady Rhiannon suggested as she stepped closer, narrowing her eyes curiously. "You said you do not live here. So why are you visiting our local seamstress?" She demanded.

"I used to live here. I'm back to visit because I need to take care of some things. And while I am here, I need a new gown." Lady Marian replied.

"Indeed." Madam Oberon muttered as she looked Lady Marian's gown over. "Telle une vilaine robe!"

"I see." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Listen, I am afraid we started off on the wrong foot. Forgive me. You may not know, my lady, but I was once engaged to Robin of Locksley." She looked over at Meridwyn. "You remember don't you, Lady Meridwyn? For you once courted his brother."

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"Will. Will Scarlett. You courted him when I was with Robin." Lady Marian explained. Lady Meridwyn's face still registered shock at the news.

"You did not know they were brothers." Lady Marian sighed.

"No, I…" Meridwyn began but her words trailed off.

"Yes, I guess you wouldn't have known. I only found out just after Robin was stabbed." Lady Marian turned to Rhiannon. "By your betrothed, no less." She turned back to Meridwyn. "I was wearing his chain you see. There was a celtic cross medallion upon it. He asked me to give it to his brother. I looked at him strangely. He managed to tell me before he died that before he came that day to rescue me, he'd just learned that Will Scarlett was his brother." Lady Marian said.

"He was Robin's brother?" Meridwyn repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. Anyway…" Lady Marian began as she turned to Rhiannon. "I was angry for a long time about Robin's death. For a long time I couldn't forgive your betrothed. I've heard, however, from several people that he has changed. Well, I just wanted to apologize for my rudeness to you. It was uncalled for." Lady Marian lied.

"Really?" Rhiannon asked, unconvinced.

"Yes. Perhaps some time we could get further acquainted over a cup of tea?" Marian suggested.

"We shall see." Lady Rhiannon replied noncommittally.

Lady Rhiannon turned to Madam Oberon as Lady Marian nodded and went over to examine some of the fine fabrics that Madam Oberon had to offer.

"So, Madam Oberon, is that all that you require?"

"For now, mon cher. Oui. I will begin cutting the silk tonight. I've decided for the skirt I will cut the fabric on the bias. It will drape so much more nicely against your body." She smiled.

"I'll take your word for it." Rhiannon said. "I'm sure it shall be beautiful."

"Votre robe est magnifique, je vous le promets." Madam Oberon reassured her.

Lady Rhiannon raised her eyebrow curiously.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle. Your gown shall be beautiful, I promise you."

Ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn smiled.

"I shall send word to you when I need you come for a fitting, Mademoiselle." Madam Oberon said as she pushed a loose silver tendril from her face. "You will come and be fitted, and then you can discuss with me whatever other details you would like to see on the gown."

"That is perfect, Madam Oberon. Thank you." Rhiannon smiled.

As the ladies turned and left, Madam Oberon eyed Rhiannon and thought: Il doit trouver son tres seduisant. If she had said the words aloud and if the ladies had asked her to translate it, they would've heard: He must find her very alluring.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the ladies returned to the castle they found three guards posted outside of the main gates.

"How do you do?" Lady Rhiannon said to Luke.

"Very well, my lady." Luke replied. The dark haired guard, and the shorter one who had golden blond hair who were flanked on either side of him looked curiously at Luke, then Lady Rhiannon.

"Nice day for a ride, my lady." Luke commented.

"Indeed, Luke." Lady Rhiannon said. "There's a lady who's visiting in town who may stop by the castle to see me one of these days. Her name is Lady Marian."

"Yes?" Luke asked.

"Rhiannon! What are you doing?" Meridwyn scorned her.

"It's okay, Meridwyn. If she should come looking, I may as well hear what she has to say."

"That little wench has nothing of value to say!" Lady Meridwyn huffed.

Lady Rhiannon ignored her and turned back to face Luke.

"You may show her in through the gates if she asks." Lady Rhiannon directed.

"As you wish, my lady." Luke replied.

The portcullis raised and the ladies urged their horses inside and took them over to the stables.

"My, aren't you getting rather well acquainted with the family?" Drake said to Luke.

Luke glanced over at him but chose not to respond.

"You do seem awfully familiar with the Sheriff and his lady." Adam remarked.

"Well, perhaps that is because I have taken the time to speak with them." Luke said.

"As if the Sheriff cares at all what any of us has to say!" Drake retorted.

"He heard _**me.**_" Luke replied.

"I still say he's related to him in some way, Drake." Adam said as he looked over at his dark haired friend.

"Well, something sure is funny about it." Drake agreed.

"All you need to do is start by complimenting." Luke hinted.

"What?" Drake asked.

"I started out by complimenting his character. He never forgot it, I suppose." Luke shrugged.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The room was dark. Lady Brigid opened her eyes. She'd slept too long but it really didn't matter. Not now. Her hands were bound behind her. She awoke upon a thin small mattress. That was odd. The last time she awoke she was laying on the cold bare floor.

She stiffened. She heard his footsteps shuffling toward the door. He opened it and slowly entered the room.

"You've awakened, I see." The man said in a sinister cadence.

Lady Brigid said nothing in response.

"It makes no difference to me whether you choose to remain silent, or if you choose to scream." The Fallen Knight said. He inched closer toward her and leaned down to her. He brought her chin up to look at him with his gloved hand.

"You see, my precious, no one will hear you anyway." He whispered.

Lady Brigid spat in his face.

"My, aren't you a feisty one?" The Fallen Knight said. He brought his right hand out then suddenly slapped her across her face.

"You'll live longer if you cooperate." He seethed.

"I'm already dead." Lady Brigid said evenly. "I told you this before."

"Yes. Sure you did, my fine lady." He snarled. "That's a shame you see. Because… the festivities have just begun!" He laughed. He pulled a rag from his pocket and held it to her face. The sickening sweet scent assaulted her nose. Though she tried to fight it, there was blackness within seconds.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff and Guy were riding along the path, both of their horses flying through the trees. For, they were eager to get to their destination and be done with this. The path was beginning to become more treacherous and demanded a slower pace, so they slowed their horses to a cantor and rode alongside each other.

"How much further, do you think?" Guy asked the Sheriff.

"Probably a day or two. He's holding her in the same cabin he had our ladies in." The Sheriff said. "Luckily, it is not far."

"How do you know that?" Guy asked.

"Mortianna. Who else?" The Sheriff pointed out.

Guy nodded.

"So, what's your plan when we get there?" Guy asked.

"Huh!" The Sheriff snorted. "Well Guy, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from you. Just remember this: he is_** mine **_for the killing." The Sheriff grinned.

Guy grinned malevolently at the thought of it. He never did dish out what the man deserved for claiming to be so familiar with Lady Meridwyn!

"At least this time I know where to find the leperous knave!" The Sheriff said.

"Indeed." Guy smiled. "We'll have him outnumbered, and taken by surprise."

"Exactly." The Sheriff said. "He will finally be mine."

He was still so angered to learn what the monster had done to Rhiannon, he couldn't quite decide how he was going to kill him. Would he use his bare hands to choke the life right out of him? An arrow? A crossbow? Or would he just plunge his sword all of the way through the bastard before slowly, very slowly…withdrawing it from his pathetic, bleeding, dying body? The Sheriff felt a satisfied smile spread across his face, curling the corners of his moustache up into a grin. Yes. Revenge on this paltry monster was going to be sweet. Almost as satisfying as holding his naked, green eyed lady next to him in his bed.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The following morning Rhiannon was dressed and just splashing some water upon her face when she heard it. The soft bell pealed once again in the den. She quickly dried her face and went over to the bedside table. Her empty vial lay there near to a candlestick. She picked it up and placed it in her gown pocket.

She smoothed her skirts of mint green silk, and went into the den. She opened the heavy oak door and proceeded down the depths into Mortianna's lair.

When she got to the foot of the stairs Mortianna was several feet away. She turned to face her and beckoned for Rhiannon to come closer.

"It is time, my child." Mortianna said as she motioned for Rhiannon to come to the table. "How do you feel?" She asked.

"I don't feel anything different, Madam. Perhaps the potion is too mild." Rhiannon wondered.

"The effects may be cumulative. It is still best to administer it in this manner."

"I think you're being overly cautious. Alas, it is _**not**_ working." Rhiannon stated.

"My child. I already warned you about this potion. I must not take chances with it." Mortianna reminded her.

Rhiannon sighed. "Well, if there is no other choice…"

"Indeed." Mortianna said. "For, this is the _**only**_ choice you have. Now, take a seat, my child. I will bring the potion to you." She advised.

"Yes." Rhiannon replied, wondering how she'd be able to obtain an extra sample this time.

Mortianna brought a small bowl and an empty vial to the table, just as she had the day before. Once again, she brought a stir stick with her. She placed the bowl on the table and began to slowly stir the mixture. She picked up the vial and carefully measured a portion from the bowl into the vial. She passed the vial over to Rhiannon.

Lady Rhiannon reached out to take the vial. They were startled when Mortianna's pet crow began to caw wildly in his cage. Rhiannon took the vial. Mortianna turned toward the cacophony.

"Hush, Abel! You'd think I hadn't fed you in weeks!" She shouted.

Rhiannon began to drink the liquid. She swallowed it quickly, finishing it, then began to gag.

"Mortianna." She choked. "Ale!"

"Yes, my child." Mortianna said. She quickly glided toward the end of the room to where the metal pitcher was, her flowing black and silver robes rustled along the stone floor. Rhiannon kept her eyes upon her, waiting for an opportunity to seize an extra helping of the magic potion. She put her right hand in her pocket and grabbed the vial. She unscrewed the cap under the table so that Mortianna would not notice. Just as she was about to bring it out and take from the bowl, Mortianna turned around.

"Forgive me, my child." Mortianna said as she came back toward the table bringing a cup with her. "I should have had this waiting for you."

"Thank you." Rhiannon said as she took the cup and drank the ale.

Mortianna's crow once again began to make a violent raucous in his cage.

"Oh, for the love of Zeus, Abel!" Mortianna cursed at the bird. "Forgive me, my lady. I haven't had a moment to feed my crow this morning. I better do that before he disturbs the entire castle!"

"Indeed, Mortianna." Lady Rhiannon said.

Mortianna turned on her heel and walked over toward the bird cage. Rhiannon glanced over. It was safe. She brought the vial up out of her lap and grabbed the bowl and quickly poured some of the potion into her vial. Then she capped it and placed it back in her gown pocket.

"When shall I begin to notice anything?" Rhiannon called over to Mortianna.

Mortianna put some raw meat in the crow's cage then walked back toward the table where Lady Rhiannon was still seated.

"You may not notice anything, my child. We are trying to erase a memory. And when I succeed, you will never know that you had that memory to begin with, because it shall be gone." Mortianna explained.

"Oh. Yes, indeed." Lady Rhiannon said.

"After a few days, I will ask you if you know what it is you're trying to forget. And I shall keep doing so until I know it has worked." Mortianna said.

"Alright." Lady Rhiannon agreed.

Back upstairs in her quarters, Rhiannon poured the contents from the vial she brought back from Mortianna's apothecary into the Sheriff's flask. Now she had two extra portions. She wondered how she would be able to obtain more of it. Surely there couldn't be convenient distractions every morning?


	43. Chapter 43

A few hours later during yet another unusually sunny morning in Nottingham, the three guards – Drake, Adam, and Luke were just taking over for the guards on duty previously at their post. Once again they were assigned the duty of guarding the main gates leading into the castle.

After they took report and bade goodbye to the other men, they took their positions. Drake looked over at Luke.

"So, how was your evening, Luke?" Drake asked. "Did you dine with the Sheriff's lady?" He teased.

Adam joined Drake in raucous laughter.

"Laugh all you like." Luke spoke up. "Does she know your names?"

The men ceased laughing and regarded him seriously.

"Oh, I get it." Adam said. "Now I see what's going on. I know why the Sheriff's lady knows _**you**_ so well."

"Now, Adam, we must not presume the worst of our new comrade!" Drake admonished as he slapped Luke on the shoulder. "For, perhaps he knows not what the punishment for treason is?"

"I'm sure I do not know what it is you're speaking of." Luke said.

"Oh….I think you do." Adam replied with a smirk.

"Are you two blokes trying to accuse me of adulterous relations with the Sheriff's lady?" Luke asked, incredulous.

Drake tilted his head, narrowed his brown eyes curiously, and rubbed his chin with his thumb and first two fingers.

"Well, it _**is**_ curious, friend. You are already on a first name basis with the Sheriff's lady. And…" He looked to Adam. "How long has it been now? Since Master Luke joined the Sheriff's employ, that is?"

"Hmm…has it been a month yet?" Adam wondered.

"Three weeks and a day." Luke replied.

"Indeed. That is the point." Drake said.

"Look…" Luke began. "I don't see anyone else stepping up to the challenge of keeping watch over Lady Rhiannon. Wouldn't the Sheriff appreciate it if he knew that one of us was looking out for her safety?" He asked them.

"Is _**that**_ what you call it?" Adam challenged. He raised one eyebrow, his grey eyes regarding Luke questioningly.

"Yes. That is _**all **_it is. I introduced myself to her so that she would know who I was, should the need ever arise for assistance." Luke explained.

"Okay. We'll take your word for it." Drake smiled. "I know nothing. And if the Sheriff should ever come asking me what I know of your relations with his lady, I will say I know nothing." Drake said.

"Good idea, Drake. Would he hang us if he knew we were even having this conversation?" Adam mused.

"You two are being ridiculous. You really should commit your far fetched tales to paper for the amusement of the people." Luke spat.

"Now, now, Luke. This is all part of the process." Drake smiled.

Luke eyed him curiously.

"Yes. He's right." Adam chimed in. "Every new knight in the Sheriff's militia must go through an initiation phase."

"Pardon?" Luke asked.

"You may be almost a knight." Drake began. "True, you were appointed by the Sheriff. But it is the rest of the knights whom you work with. _**We**_ are the ones who will always have your back." He explained.

"Yes." Adam continued. "The Sheriff is not always with us on missions. You must earn our trust too."

"Oh. So the daily cajoling is part of initiation?" Luke asked in disbelief.

"It is for everybody." Drake said. He slapped Luke on the shoulder. "But _**you**_, my friend, have been the most interesting subject that my comrade and I have ever had the pleasure of breaking in to our little…group."

Adam laughed in agreement. Luke was still a little stunned, but had to admit he felt a little more at ease with them than the days previous.

They were startled by the sounds of horse's hooves approaching. The men looked up. Luke recognized her immediately. It was the same maiden he spotted two days ago staring at Lady Rhiannon through the bars of the portcullis.

"Good day." The woman said to them. Her tight curly, auburn locks danced in the wind as she reached down to smooth the mane on her horse.

"Good morning, my lady." Drake said. "How may we assist you?"

"Hmm. Indeed." She said as she looked in through the portcullis at the castle within. "I never thought I'd visit _**this**_ place again." She tried to conceal her disdain, but Luke saw it in her eyes, notwithstanding.

"My lady?" Luke said.

"Yes. I'm here to visit Lady Rhiannon." The woman sighed.

"And whom might you be?" Adam asked.

"I am Lady Marian." She replied.

"Oh, yes." Drake said. "Lady Rhiannon told us about you yesterday."

"Did she now?" Lady Marian inquired with her eyebrow raised.

"Indeed. She asked us to grant you access." Drake said.

"How kind of her." Lady Marian remarked sarcastically. "Though, what on earth she is doing with a man like _**that**_ is beyond me."

"My lady?" Luke said.

"Oh, forgive me. He is your employer. I hope he treats you better than the people in his personal life." Lady Marian rolled her eyes.

"He is a fine employer!" Luke defended.

"Yes, I'm sure. But I'd be careful around him." She smirked.

There was something odd about this fair maiden. Luke saw it in her eyes. They were wild, yet almost vacant at the same time. As if…she was on the edge of madness. He knew Lady Rhiannon gave explicit permission for this maiden to be granted access to the castle. Still, he thought it best to keep an eye on this one. Something about her was giving him a very bad feeling. A chill up his spine.

"Indeed." Drake replied absently. He nodded for her to go when the portcullis raised.

"Now there's a very strange lady, indeed." Adam remarked as he watched her enter into the grounds surrounding the castle.

"Indeed." Luke seethed.

"You seem rather disturbed by her?" Drake said to Luke.

"Yes. I don't know why, but that maiden gives me a very bad feeling. I do not like it." Luke confessed.

"He does have a point, Drake. She looked almost…mad?" Adam commented.

"Indeed. Perhaps Lady Rhiannon doesn't know what she's getting into with this one. We better keep our eyes on that one if we can." Drake suggested.

All three men nodded in agreement. It was the first time that all three of them had agreed upon anything as a team.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lady Rhiannon was annoyed. The potion was not working! She was still troubled by the memory. She had nightmares about it the night before. She only had two more measures of the potion with her. What to do? If she drank it, how could she obtain more?

She'd have to think of something. In the meantime she walked over to the table where the Sheriff's flask was. She picked it up and poured half of the contents – two ounces, into a cup. She remembered how badly it tasted, so she already had a goblet of the tincture of rapture – the Sheriff's brandy at the ready on the same table as the flask.

She picked up the cup of potion and took a long draught until it was gone. Then she hastily picked up the goblet of brandy and washed down the bitter taste of Mortianna's potion. She did not realize it, but Mortianna had only been giving her one ounce of the potion each morning.

She was startled by a knock on the door of the den that led out into the corridor. She put the goblet down and walked through the private chamber and closed the door leading into it. Then she glided to the door of the den. When she opened it, the young blond, blue eyed page was standing there before her.

"You have a visitor, milady." The page announced.

"Indeed? Who is here to see me?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"Her name is Lady Marian. I did not know where you would wish to meet with her, so she is waiting for you in the Sheriff's Council Quarters." The page said.

"Very well." Lady Rhiannon said.

Ten minutes later, she strolled through the heavy oak doors of the Council Quarters. Lady Marian stood in the room before her.

"I'm rather surprised to see you here." Rhiannon said as she walked slowly toward her, her mint green skirts rustling along the floor.

"The guards permitted me to enter. That was kind of you to mention me to them." Lady Marian said.

"Yes. I had a feeling you may want to visit. Though, I'm sure I don't know why." Rhiannon remarked.

"I'm curious." Lady Marian muttered.

"Really? About what?"

"Curious over what manner of lady could possibly hold the Sheriff of Nottingham's attention long enough that he would wish to finally be married. For, he is well known as the most unattainable man in the kingdom. The consummate bachelor." Lady Marian remarked.

Lady Rhiannon sighed. Why did everybody feel a need to share this with her? "I do not know." Lady Rhiannon began. "All I ever did was choose to love the man. Perhaps that is the difference, right there?"

"Mmm." Lady Marian muttered. She was beginning to wonder if the Sheriff had ever mentioned her to Lady Rhiannon. It was appearing as if he hadn't, though she really couldn't be sure at this point.

"Well, indeed, you are the first he's been engaged to." Lady Marian said. For it was not a lie. She was never engaged to the Sheriff. Though, at the time, she was sure the Sheriff was probably regarding her as his betrothed in his sick, twisted manner.

"That still does not explain to me why you are here?" Rhiannon said. "Curiosity or not, the fact is that my betrothed killed your lover. It's true you have already apologized for the insults you spoke on Sunday, but I do believe the first words you spoke to me in the cathedral foyer on Sunday, were probably closer to the truth of it, than anything you have said to me since." Rhiannon stated. She drew in a sigh. "So, tell me, Lady Marian. Why _**are**_ you here?"

"I'll only be here for a short time. And I…have no friends left in this town." Lady Marian replied.

"You want a friend?" Rhiannon asked, incredulous.

Lady Marian began to pace. "Look, I'm here on business. Rather boring business if you must know. And you and your friend are the most interesting maidens in this cursed town! It is just nice to converse with someone who is not so much older than I am for once." Lady Marian lied.

Rhiannon sighed. She hated to admit it, but some of what Lady Marian was saying was beginning to make sense.

"Yes. I can understand your dilemma. Sadly, I can relate." Rhiannon said.

"Then, my lady, may we call a truce?" Lady Marian asked.

"You're serious." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed. I am." Marian lied.

"Fine. We shall put the hostilities we exchanged three days ago behind us."

"Good." Lady Marian said.

"So, uhh…how well did you know my betrothed? When last you lived in Nottingham, that is?" Rhiannon asked pointedly.

"Oh, my." Lady Marian began. "Well I didn't know him that well. We exchanged some words a few times but…" Her words trailed off.

"Words? Over what?" Rhiannon prodded her.

"Well, he was concerned I was spending too much time with Robin. At first he approached me because he'd learned from his cousin that Robin stole two of my horses. That was when the warnings about Robin began." Lady Marian explained.

"Was he right? About Robin, I mean?" Rhiannon asked.

"My lady, the story is too complicated to go into it now. There's a lot you don't know about my Robin and your Sheriff and all that happened here three years ago. At least…I do not remember seeing you here in the village at that time?" Marian said as she squinted her almond shaped brown eyes at Rhiannon, and shook her head trying to recall.

"You are correct. I've only lived in Nottingham almost a year and a half."

"Then perhaps one day I can bring you up to date on the story?" Lady Marian offered.

"Perhaps." Rhiannon agreed.

"I do thank you for seeing me, my lady." Lady Marian said. "May I come again sometime?" She asked.

"Indeed." Lady Rhiannon said.

Out in the corridors as Lady Rhiannon was heading back to the private chambers, she ran into Lady Meridwyn.

"Meridwyn! You'd never believe who I just saw." Rhiannon said as she walked toward her.

Lady Meridwyn swallowed and put her hand to her mouth. With her other hand she began to fan herself.

"Oh, give me a minute, my friend. I feel as if I shall lose my morning repast all over this floor!" Meridwyn groaned.

"Meridwyn? Are you alright?" Rhiannon asked as she moved closer toward her.

"I will be." Meridwyn said. "You know, this is going to sound very odd to you. God knows I can't believe it myself. But, I think I know what may help me." Meridwyn started to say.

"What is it?" Rhiannon asked.

"Do not laugh… Mortianna's batwing tea. It made me feel better when I was ill after our men rescued us. And you won't believe it, Rhiannon, but….I desire it. All of the time!" Meridwyn confessed.

"Mortianna's batwing tea?!" Rhiannon exclaimed as she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Don't tell me you've been fancying _**that**_?"

"Yes! Maybe I could ask to her to bring me some of it?" Meridwyn mused.

Rhiannon felt the corners of her mouth upturn in a smirk. She had an idea. The opportunity she was seeking had just now presented itself.

"I will see that you get your cup of batwing tea, Meridwyn. You go to the Lieutenant's private chambers. I shall speak to Mortianna." Rhiannon reassured.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Rhiannon. I shall be better company when I feel better. I have a feeling Mortianna's tea will just do the trick."

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Ten minutes later, Lady Rhiannon approached the sentry who was stationed outside of the doors to the Sheriff's private chambers. He was tall and broad, with black hair, and dark eyes.

"Excuse me." Lady Rhiannon began.

"Yes, my lady?" Alfred replied.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne's lady is feeling very unwell this morning. She requests Mortianna to bring her some batwing tea to the Lieutenant's private chambers. Could you summon her for me to go? I need to get back to the Council Quarters. My guest is waiting for me." Rhiannon lied.

"Of course, my lady." The guard replied.

Rhiannon nodded and turned to leave. She found an alcove off the corridor, just down the hall a little way from the private chamber, where she could conceal herself. Before she went there to hide she looked over her shoulder. The guard had gone in to fetch Mortianna. She waited with her back against the stone wall of the alcove. It seemed like a very long time. Finally, after a few minutes she heard footsteps and kept her eyes peeled on the corridor, her back still up against the wall. Soon she heard the shuffling of the old woman, then the witch passed by the alcove where Rhiannon stood. She waited a time, then came out of hiding and headed back toward the door of the Sheriff's private chambers. The guard was already back at his post. He eyed Rhiannon curiously.

"My visitor has left. Indeed, a shame." Lady Rhiannon commented as she opened the door to the chambers. She closed it behind her and quickly walked over to the private chamber, opening the door. She went to the table and went straight for the Sheriff's flask. She picked it up and took it with her to Mortianna's lair.

Curses! Where was Mortianna hiding the potion? It was chill in the apothecary. She tried to ignore the rat that kept scurrying across the floor, and the crow that was flapping his wings and cawing in the cage nearby.

She quickly walked closer to the large table that was near the fire where a large cauldron was always kept in position. She found some jars, bottles, and some bowls containing liquid there. She recognized one of the bowls. It had pale golden liquid in it. The potion was mixed with ale – Mortianna had told her. She stuck a finger in it and brought it to her lips, tasting it with her tongue. She spat in distaste at the unsavoury mixture. This was it. It was definitely the potion, she recognized the taste right away. Quickly, she poured the entire lot of it, approximately ten ounces into the flask. The Sheriff's flask was now nearly full. But would Mortianna notice the bowl was empty? Was there more of the potion somewhere in this apothecary?

She picked up one of the jars and sniffed it. Odourless. That wasn't it. Next she picked up a large bottle as she looked back and listened for footsteps. She was still alone. She sniffed from the bottle. It did indeed have a curious odour. She poured a few drops in the now empty bowl, once again placed her finger in it, and tasted the liquid from her fingertip. This is it! She poured a little more from the bottle into the bowl. Now Mortianna wouldn't notice. There, that should do it. She capped the Sheriff's flask quickly, picked up her skirts and practically ran through the apothecary and up the winding steep stone stairs that led back up into the Sheriff's den. She closed the door and went to the private chambers. She sat the flask on the table below the mirror on the wall, which was to the right of four poster bed, and to the left of the large window in the room.

Then she went into the bath chamber and drew some water in the linen lined bathtub for a bath. She went back in the private chamber to undress. She threw her velvet dressing gown over her naked body, this time declining to wear her bath shirt. She was all alone, it would not matter. She went to the table below the mirror and poured a generous libation of Mortianna's potion from the Sheriff's flask into the goblet that was still there. Then she picked up the decanter of the Sheriff's favourite brandy and took both of them with her into the bath chamber.

There was a chair beside the tub. She put the goblet and the decanter upon it. She removed her gown letting it fall carelessly to the floor and stepped inside the bath.

The water was warm and soothing. It was good to relax. She thought about her meeting with Lady Marian. It was curious the woman was interested in spending time with her. Rhiannon grabbed the goblet from the chair beside her and took a generous gulp. She quickly put it back and grabbed the decanter of brandy. She drank from the decanter letting the warm amber liquid slide down her tongue, washing away the bitter taste of the potion. She tried to remember if the Sheriff had ever mentioned Lady Marian. He had said much about Marian's lover, his archenemy Robin of Locksley. She realized that the Sheriff hadn't said anything about her. Yet, Lady Marian had said they had exchanged words. How many words?

Rhiannon realized then that if someone had killed her lover, the last woman she'd wish to be friends with in the years that followed would be the woman who was betrothed to her lover's killer.

Something was very strange about this. Rhiannon grabbed the goblet and drank the remaining two ounces until there was nary a drop left within the goblet. It was vile! She picked up the brandy again to take a drink. As she sipped it, she remembered something that her brother Robert had said to her, shortly before Robert and Eddie went off to join King Richard's army in the Crusades. She suddenly remembered the conversation well:

"_Keep your friends close, sweet sister. But remember: Keep your enemies closer." He had said._

"_As far as I know, I have no enemies." Rhiannon pointed out._

"_You shall. Maybe not today. Maybe not even in a year from now. But sometime in the future, you will. At the moment, you are still innocent. But you shall find that there is always an antagonist in every story." Robert explained._

"_I'm sure I won't need to worry, dear brother." Rhiannon attempted to reassure him._

"_Heed my words, Rhiannon. It's one of the best pieces of advice I can offer you. For, I don't know how long we shall be away from you." He was referring to him and Edward preparing to leave England for battle in the Holy Land. Alas, some of his comrades had been away for years._

"_I will, Robert." She said._

Yet she had forgotten about the entire conversation until today. Robert was right. He always was wise beyond his years.

Marian was no friend to Lady Rhiannon. She was her enemy. In fact, she wasn't even a friend to Lady Meridwyn three years ago. Meridwyn had said they had barely exchanged any words, because Will hated Robin at the time. No. She was sure Lady Marian was no more interested in truly being a friend to her, than flying to the moon. She took another sip of the brandy.

"You thought I wasn't paying attention to you that day, Robert." Rhiannon said aloud. She put the decanter back on the chair beside the tub and slid down into the soothing warm water until it was at the level of her chin.

"I'm still listening, dear brother." She smiled.

Then she took a breath and slipped down below the surface of the water until she was completely immersed. She came back up feeling completely refreshed. She grabbed Mortianna's lavender soap and ran it over her skin to wash with.


	44. Chapter 44

Hours later, there was another knock on the door of the den. Rhiannon went to answer it. Lady Meridwyn stood there looking much better than when Rhiannon saw her in the corridor of the main floor.

"Meridwyn! How are you feeling now? Come in." Rhiannon said.

"Much better now. Thanks for summoning Mortianna for me. I was right, the batwing tea indeed made me feel restored." Meridwyn remarked.

"Good." Lady Rhiannon said. She went to a table in the den where there was a large pitcher of water. She poured it into a goblet and took a long draught from the goblet until it was gone, then proceeded to pour some more water for herself.

"Maybe I should be asking _**you**_ if you're alright?" Meridwyn said as she raised her eyebrow at her.

"My mouth is so dry. I can't seem to get enough water." Rhiannon commented.

"How very odd?" Meridwyn said.

"Yes. It is indeed puzzling." Rhiannon said as she drank from the goblet once more.

"I was wondering if you'd accompany me for a stroll in the gardens. I think the air will be good for me. Maybe it will be good for you too?" Meridwyn suggested.

"Indeed." Rhiannon agreed. She finished her goblet of water and the ladies took their leave.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

On Thursday morning, Lady Brigid awoke on the small thin mattress in the cold, dark room. Her hands were still bound behind her. There was only two ways out of this predicament. Find a way to escape, or submit to her own death. At this point she was uncertain which would be the better course of action. She didn't relish the thought of spending her remaining few hours of life with this madman. But then again, what was the reason to go on living? In her mind, her life ended nearly a fortnight ago when her betrothed was hung in the village square.

"Oh, Hector." She whispered. "Help me. I know not what to do." She felt a tear spill out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. How she missed her handsome lover. She wondered how she would go on without him, if she ever got out of this cursed mess.

Suddenly, the door to the chill dark room flew open. The hooded madman was there at the doorway. He advanced slowly toward her, like an animal hunting his prey.

"So, my precious. Have we learned what _**not**_ to do while you are…my guest?" He snarled.

"Huh! Your guest? You must be jesting!" Lady Brigid remarked.

The Fallen Knight was stirred. This feisty maiden was a bit of a handful. Though, he did rather admire her fearlessness. Not to mention…her beauty.

"Well now, my precious, I was trying to be polite about it." He said.

"You wouldn't know the meaning of the word 'polite' if it bit you on your ear!" Lady Brigid spat.

He walked toward her until he was inches away. Then he crouched down and began to stroke her cheek.

"You know….you are fortunate that you are such a fair maiden. I've met a few unsavoury ones these last two years, and they met their end when they spoke out of turn to me." The Fallen Knight hinted.

Lady Brigid felt a chill travel up and down her spine. He said: _these last two years_. Oh my god. Was he the one? Was he the one responsible for the scores of missing maidens in Nottingham and other parts of England?

"You are him. Aren't you?" Brigid asked.

"Him…who?" The Fallen Knight teased. For he guessed the beautiful blond, blue eyed maiden was beginning to get the picture.

"The man who is responsible for the scores of missing maidens in this kingdom! You killed them, didn't you?" She said.

"Well, not all of them." The Fallen Knight smirked.

"How many then?"

"My precious, you must not concern yourself with it. The only thing that matters is you. And what do you think I will do to you?" The madman taunted her.

"Kill me." Brigid replied, matter of factly.

He stroked her cheek and brought his hand to her shoulder, then moved it toward her décolleté.

"Not yet, my fair maiden. Not yet. We haven't begun the merriment…yet." He sneered.

"Don't do this." Lady Brigid pleaded. "Please, don't do this…"

He swiftly put one hand over her mouth as he pushed her down onto the mattress. With the other hand he grabbed the bodice of her gown and ripped it open in a swift fluid motion.

"Too late, my precious. It's too late. For you grabbed my attention the second I cast my eyes upon you." The Fallen Knight hissed in her ear.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

"There it is, cousin. Up ahead - through those trees. I'm sure of it!" The Sheriff exclaimed to Guy as he pointed ahead.

"Finally! Let's do it." Guy said.

They secured their horses thirty yards away from the cabin and made their way through the trees and brush, down the slight incline toward the front door of the cabin. When they arrived at the front entrance on the east side of it, they peered in through the large window. It was dark, but it appeared there was nobody in the room.

"They have to be in there." Guy said.

"Of course they are. His horse is secured over there!" The Sheriff pointed to it. It was secured to a tree at the southeast side of the cabin.

"Yes, of course." Guy said.

"Let's go around the back." The Sheriff said. "You have your sword?"

"Yes. Got it." Guy pointed to it.

"Good. Let's get this sick paltry bastard." The Sheriff spat.

The two men walked around on the north side of the cabin, down the incline and got to the back entrance on the west side of the cabin. They crouched below the same rear window they positioned themselves at when they came for their ladies, on the far side of the back door. Both of them slowly crept up and peered through the window.

It took a moment to adjust his eyes looking into the dark room. But the Sheriff saw them. Two figures down on the floor. A young woman dressed in black was pinned down lying on her back. Her gown was open to the waist. His eyes widened. The hooded madman was straddling her and attempting to remove her gown. Just like he'd done to Rhiannon! He felt a fury rise within him.

"He's attempting to violate her!" The Sheriff spat. "Come on, Guy. We have to stop this nonsense!"

"Indeed." Guy snarled knowingly.

"Remember, cousin. Do with him what you will. But he is _**mine**_ to kill!" The Sheriff reminded him. Guy nodded.

They stood up. Guy went to the door and kicked it in. The door banged against the wall announcing their entrance. The Fallen Knight looked up. The Sheriff and Guy drew their swords. Lady Brigid looked to her left. Silhouetted against the light behind them, stood two tall men, both dressed in black studded in silver. She couldn't make out their faces right away.

"Oh. It's you two. The good Sheriff of Nottingham, and his puppet!" The Fallen Knight said as he quickly got up, leaving Lady Brigid on the mattress. Lady Brigid groaned.

Lady Brigid shuffled on the mattress. She wanted to pull her gown closed but her hands were still bound behind her.

"Get him, Guy!" The Sheriff commanded.

Guy ran after him, but the madman was swift. He managed to run through the entire cabin toward the front entrance. Guy pursued him.

The Sheriff uttered some obscenities under his breath. He went toward Lady Brigid. She looked away, embarrassed, for she was exposed.

He knelt down before her, laying his sword down beside her and quickly unbound her hands. She grabbed the edges of her gown and pulled them close to cover her.

"You're safe now, my lady." The Sheriff reassured her.

Lady Brigid was trembling, a tear was streaming down her face but she angrily wiped it away with the back of her hand as she continued to hold her gown closed with her left hand.

"Stay here, Lady Brigid." The Sheriff instructed. "My Lieutenant and I shall come back for you to return you home."

Lady Brigid looked at him, into his amber eyes, but was unable to speak. She didn't know what she more shocked about. The fact that she was captured, and then moments ago, nearly violated? Or, the fact that she was rescued by the Sheriff of Nottingham? The same man who ordered the execution of her beloved Hector!

"My lady? Do you understand me?" The Sheriff asked. "It is not safe until we capture him."

"Yes." She muttered weakly.

"Good." The Sheriff said as he quickly arose. He picked up his sword and ran through the room in the same direction that Guy and the Fallen Knight had taken moments ago.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Rhiannon was seated by the window in the private chamber. She was holding a goblet of water in her hand. She was still incredibly thirsty at times. As she took a large gulp from the goblet, she thought of the Sheriff. Was he close to finding the maiden he was searching for? She hoped he wouldn't be away from her for too long.

She gazed out the window into the distance. For some reason, her vision was slightly blurred. But then she saw it. A dark haired man dressed all in black, upon a fine black steed. "My love!" She cried. She stood up. The regal dark prince upon the midnight black mare was coming closer. She tried to wave to get his attention and called out to him. He ignored her.

"George!" She called.

*Ring* *Ring*. What was that? A bell? Rhiannon shook her head and looked toward the door of the private chamber. There it was again. A small sound of a bell. Why was she hearing bells? She ignored it. She took another sip of the water and looked back out of the window. Where was he? She had just seen him coming! Had he approached the castle that quickly?

The bell pealed again. Where was the sound of the bell coming from? She picked up her goblet of water and walked out toward the den. She looked around. As her eyes roamed the general direction where Mortianna's bell was located, the bell sounded again. She saw it on the wall. A memory came to her.

"_Listen for the soft bell in the den. You will see it there on the wall if you look for it. I shall ring the bell to signal for you when it is time."_ Mortianna had said. The potion. Mortianna was calling her to take the potion. Yes! She shuffled over to the door and went down the stone circular steps down into the depths below to Mortianna's apothecary.

Mortianna was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

"My child. What causes thee to tarry?" Mortianna asked.

"Oh, I had just finished dressing." Rhiannon lied. Damn! Had she remembered to bring her empty vial with her? She felt the outside of her gown pocket. She sighed. It was there. But she couldn't remember when she put it there.

Mortianna nodded toward the small table. Rhiannon went to it but this time chose not to sit. She put her goblet of water on the table.

The witch went to the large table near the fire where the cauldron was brewing. She picked up all of her necessary items and brought them over to the smaller table where Rhiannon stood.

Mortianna placed the bowl and the stir stick on the table. Still holding the vial with her left hand, she picked up the stick and stirred the mixture in the bowl. She picked it up and poured a small measure into the vial and handed it to Rhiannon. Rhiannon took it.

"Wait. Before you drink it, I shall get you a cup of ale." Mortianna said. She turned around and headed back toward the fire and where the majority of her supplies were kept.

Rhiannon set the vial on the table. She pulled her own out of her gown pocket as she kept her eyes in Mortianna's direction. She quickly unscrewed the cap, once more poured a portion from the bowl into her own vial, capped it, and quickly placed it in her gown pocket.

"Curses! Where did that I put that pitcher of ale?" Mortianna spat. "Ahh – there it is." She finally spotted it, poured from it into a cup, and brought the cup back to Lady Rhiannon.

Rhiannon was holding the vial again that Mortianna gave to her.

"Drink, my child." Mortianna said.

Rhiannon drained the contents from the vial, then took the cup of ale that Mortianna held out to her. As she sipped the ale, Mortianna spoke.

"Tell me, Lady Rhiannon…what memory are you trying to forget?"

"That man." Rhiannon replied. "That vile madman!" She knew it had something to do with him.

"And what did that man do?" Mortianna asked gently, attempting to get a sense of Rhiannon's orientation to time and place.

"He uhh…hurt me?" Rhiannon guessed.

"Indeed." Mortianna sighed. "I shall call for you again on the morrow, twenty four hours from hence. We're not there yet, my dear." Mortianna said.

"Indeed." Rhiannon agreed. Flashes of the memory were coming to her, suddenly. But the Sheriff was here! She wanted to have forgotten it all before he returned!

"My Lord has returned." Rhiannon announced as she took another sip of the ale.

Mortianna regarded her strangely. "He can't have returned already, my child. His destination was a three or four day journey?"

"He has been gone a long time." Rhiannon said.

"My child, the Sheriff only left Nottingham three days ago?" Mortianna pointed out.

"But I saw him, Mortianna. I swear to you. He was riding toward the castle on his black mare. I'd recognize him and his horse anywhere!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"You are certain?" Mortianna asked. This was not making sense. The Sheriff probably wouldn't be arriving until at least Sunday, most likely on Monday.

"Oh, I'm so thirsty." Rhiannon said as she put the cup of ale on the table and picked up her goblet of water. Mortianna observed her curiously as she watched Rhiannon take a long draught of it until there was nothing left.

"Curses! It is gone!" Rhiannon groaned as she held the goblet upside down, and tried to shake a few drops loose onto her tongue.

"My child, you are indeed certain you saw the Sheriff coming toward the castle?" Mortianna asked again. Why was she behaving so strangely? The potion was weak! Lady Rhiannon had only had three ounces of it all in total since the administration began on Tuesday? It couldn't be the potion. Could it?

"Yes, Mortianna! Indeed, I saw him. Just before I came down to see you. I know that was him. If you put me in a crowd and asked me to search it with my eyes and point him out to you, I would spot him in no time. I say to you: I saw him outside of my window. He was upon his mare and riding toward the castle!" Rhiannon exclaimed. Why did Mortianna appear so unconvinced?

"Was Guy of Gisborne with him?" Mortianna asked pointedly.

"What?" Rhiannon asked. She drew in a sigh and looked skyward trying to recall. "I'm not sure. I do not think so. I'm sure my Lord was all alone." Rhiannon said.

"The Sheriff's Lieutenant went with him on this mission." Mortianna pointed out.

"Yes. He did, didn't he? You don't think something happened to Sir Gisborne do you, Mortianna?" Rhiannon asked. Her eyes widened in fear. Meridwyn!

"No, my child. I'm sure that they are both safe." Mortianna said. She extended her arm out toward Rhiannon and put her gnarled hand upon her shoulder.

"Are you sleeping well, my child?" Mortianna asked. She needed to find out the reason for the Sheriff's lady's bizarre behaviour.

"Now that you mention it, no. I have been having nightmares." Lady Rhiannon admitted.

"Indeed." Mortianna sighed. "Come to see me tonight before you retire, my child. My batwing tea has many uses. One of them is to relax one's soul. You may sleep better after a cup of it."

"Alright." Lady Rhiannon agreed.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff ran out the east entrance of the cabin to the front. His Lieutenant and the Fallen Knight were engaged in a sword duel. He ran up the small hill. Guy had managed to knock the sword from the Fallen Knight's hands. The Fallen Knight reacted by throwing rocks at him. As the Sheriff ran toward them, Guy was undeterred. He ran toward the Fallen Knight, and tackled him to the ground. Then the Lieutenant began to kick him repeatedly. The Fallen Knight groaned as he rolled onto his side.

"You rotten bastard!" Guy seethed. "How dare you tell me that you were once intimate with my lady!"

"That is the truth, my little puppet." The Fallen Knight spat.

Guy bent down and whacked him across his face. Then he pushed the man back onto his back, and placed his boot on him to hold him there.

The Sheriff arrived at the scene, finally. His heart was pounding in anticipation.

"He is all yours, cousin. Though I can think of several other things I wish to do to the bastard!" Guy snarled.

"Indeed, cousin." The Sheriff said with a smirk. Guy stepped aside and the Sheriff placed one of his boots firmly on the man's abdomen. He leaned down and swiftly pulled the hood off the man's face.

"A shame you showed up." The Fallen Knight said. "You may have interrupted the very last bit of fun I was about to partake in." He smirked.

"You worthless, leperous, bastard!" The Sheriff spat. He leaned down closer to lower his voice so that Guy wouldn't hear what he was about to say.

"I know what you did to my lady. You sick piece of rubbish!" The Sheriff snarled.

"And did she tell you that she enjoyed every minute of it?" The Fallen Knight taunted.

The Sheriff responded by kicking him. The Fallen Knight lay supine and brought his knees up to him in response to the pain.

"Your time is done!" The Sheriff seethed in a fury. "Though, personally, it would've been very satisfying to order you drawn and quartered, then string you on the castle walls by your own entrails, but alas, that would take too long. By the time we got you back…" The Sheriff was interrupted.

"And held in the dungeon with your incompetent guards." The madman reminded him.

"Yes. Well, you see, I'm a man of very little patience." The Sheriff said as he increased the pressure of his boot on the man's abdomen. Then he swiftly positioned his sword, the tip inches away from the man's chest. "And I cannot wait to watch you take your last pathetic breath!" He sneered as he slowly and deliberately plunged the sword straight through the man's chest, until he could feel the blade meet resistance with the ground beneath the man's back. The Fallen Knight groaned.

The Sheriff withdrew the sword as slowly as he thrust it inside of him. It only took moments after the sword was withdrawn for the man to expire. The wound was large and the bleeding profuse.

"Should we bury him?" Guy asked.

"No. Leave him for the ravens." The Sheriff instructed. For, they were already circling at the smell of the blood.

They went back inside through the front entrance. They walked through the front room, down the hall and to the back where Lady Brigid was waiting.

She was standing near to the window at the back. She wanted to fasten the bodice of her gown together but the ribbons had been torn from it.

The Sheriff walked slowly toward her.

"Why?" Lady Brigid asked him directly. She still trembled and held her garment closed so tight, her knuckles were almost white.

"My Lady?" The Sheriff began.

"Why did you come for me?" Lady Brigid asked.

"Two reasons." The Sheriff said as he kept advancing toward her until he was two feet away. "To rescue you, and to kill the paltry madman who was holding you prisoner."

"He was going to kill me after he was done with me." Lady Brigid said nonchalantly.

The Sheriff and Guy looked at her strangely.

"You would have preferred to have been violated?" Guy asked, incredulous. Surely the maiden was in shock. He looked to his cousin. The Sheriff was shaking his head.

"It wouldn't have mattered." Lady Brigid said in a slight monotone. "Because, I was going to die afterward. My misery would've been over."

"It _**is**_ over." The Sheriff said.

"You don't understand!" Lady Brigid exclaimed angrily. "You killed the wrong person – my Hector! You should have just let me die!" Lady Brigid began to cry. She was so confused. She was grateful to be rescued, but why did it have to be _**him**_?

The Sheriff removed his heavy black cloak and placed it around her shoulders to cover her.

"Come, Lady Brigid." The Sheriff smiled. "We must get you home. Your mother is quite worried about you."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Near midday, the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn were sitting outside in the gardens just as they had the day before. It was a fairly sunny day, though some large fluffy cumulus clouds would occasionally block the sun's rays.

Meridwyn was startled when Rhiannon made a strange comment.

"I'm surprised you would wish to be with me, rather than Sir Guy." Rhiannon commented.

"Whatever do you mean?" Meridwyn asked.

"I saw my Lord, Meridwyn. This morning! He was upon his horse riding toward this castle! Though, I don't know why I haven't seen him as yet. He must have had some business to attend to." Rhiannon lamented.

Meridwyn regarded her strangely. What on earth was she talking about? Guy had said they probably wouldn't return for at least a week!

"No. You couldn't have seen him, Rhiannon." Meridwyn said.

"Is Guy back? Have you seen him?" Rhiannon asked.

"No, my dear. Our men are away on a mission. They won't be back for three or four more days. And that is if all goes well." Meridwyn reminded her.

Lady Rhiannon blinked her eyes. It had been difficult to focus. Occasionally, ever since last night, she noticed her vision became blurry at times.

"Rhiannon. Are you quite yourself?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes. Just that you seem a little blurred all of a sudden." Rhiannon muttered.

Meridwyn suddenly noticed that Rhiannon's pupils seemed awfully large considering they were seated outside. It was a fairly sunny day. They should have been much smaller!

"You're certain?" Meridwyn asked again.

"Yes. I'm fine, my friend." Rhiannon reassured. "Though, I would surely love a large goblet of water at the moment. I'm so thirsty lately, Meridwyn. It's very strange."

"Indeed. I'll say it's strange." Meridwyn commented.

"So you're telling me that you have not seen Sir Guy?" Rhiannon asked her again.

"Indeed. That is correct. I haven't seen him because he has not yet returned." Meridwyn said.

"My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Mortianna thinks it's because I'm not sleeping very well." Rhiannon remarked carelessly.

"Mortianna?" Meridwyn prodded.

"Yes. Uhh…I spoke to her early today. She recommends I come to see her tonight for a cup of batwing tea. She says it might help me to sleep better." Rhiannon explained.

"Indeed. You would have to mention the tea, wouldn't you?" Meridwyn sighed. "I can't believe how much I desire that stuff. Ever since I found out I was with child."

"And I can't believe how much I'm craving…water." Rhiannon sighed.


	45. Chapter 45

The next few days continued along in the same fashion. Each morning at the sound of the tiny bells fastened to the wall of the den, Lady Rhiannon saw Mortianna for the daily dose of her potion. She was able to manage obtaining two more extra measures of it on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday morning, however, Mortianna was quite prepared. She had everything, including a cup of ale ready and waiting at the table when she greeted Lady Rhiannon. There were no interruptions and she never left Rhiannon's side. Alas, the opportunity didn't present itself.

Rhiannon was in the private chambers early Sunday morning, preparing to attend mass with Lady Meridwyn. She didn't wish to go, but she remembered what the Sheriff told her the week before about appearances being important, expecially since the Bishop would be marrying them. And so, she decided she would go for the both of them. Mortianna had told her that the Sheriff said he would likely return to Nottingham on Sunday or Monday. Let it be today, she prayed. True, it hadn't even been a week since he left, but he did say that his destination was not very far.

She was dressed and prepared to leave shortly. She went to her trunk to obtain her butter yellow chiffon scarf. She would cover her hair with it before she left. Next she walked to the table below the mirror. The Sheriff's flask was there, beside the decanter of brandy. She picked up the flask, it still had some weight to it. There was still approximately fifteen ounces remaining now, because she'd managed to top it up since Thursday, and because she had declined to partake any more than what Mortianna had been giving her. She felt very oddly on Thursday, and thought it best to refrain for a few days.

But the nightmares returned just last night. The flashes of memory were haunting her once more. So she picked up the flask, poured a generous libation for herself into a goblet and began to drink. She spat. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the taste of it. She picked up the decanter of the Sheriff's brandy, pulled the stopper from it, and drank from it. Finally, she finished the potion in the goblet. She hoped it would work, especially, if the Sheriff should return to her this day.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff and Guy had been making good time with their travels. Though, the journey was rather uncomfortable. Lady Brigid barely spoke for the last three days since they found her. The Sheriff and Guy did not feel so free to converse with each other about the typical things they normally discussed while away together on a mission. They were now about eight hours away from home.

The Sheriff was glad to be returning. He had missed his lady, and he was glad to have closed the chapter on the Fallen Knight. He hoped that when he informed Lady Rhiannon that the man was now dead, perhaps it would bring her some peace in the matter. He wasn't sure what it was going to take for her to be able to move forward. He suddenly remembered the potion of thorn apple seed that Mortianna was preparing just as he was leaving on his journey. Rhiannon had probably already taken it by now. He wondered if it had helped her, but more importantly, he wondered if she had suffered any ill effects. For, Mortianna had told him it would require careful consideration. He hated the idea of his lady requiring to be drugged in order to get through her torment. And with that thought in mind, he was even more eager to return home to her. Without even thinking, he urged his horse along to a faster gallop. He would feel so much better once he saw her. He needed to know that she was okay.

Guy kicked his horse lightly to encourage it to pick up the pace, but it was awkward because Lady Brigid was behind him upon the horse.

"Cousin! Wait." Guy called.

The Sheriff slowed his horse and eased his mare around to face them, irritated to be postponed.

"What is it?" The Sheriff called out, in irritation.

"It's difficult for my horse to keep up." Guy said. He nodded to Lady Brigid behind him. He thought he was being subtle, but Lady Brigid sensed it, notwithstanding.

She attempted to dismount from the horse, but it was awkward.

"What are you doing?" Guy asked turning his head back to her. She stopped.

"I am slowing your journey." She said. It was the first complete sentence they'd heard come from her lips since they went back into the cabin to get her three days prior.

The Sheriff eased his horse in close to them. "We are taking you home, Lady Brigid." The Sheriff said.

"I don't wish to go home!" Brigid said. "And I certainly don't wish to continue on with you two!"

Guy turned around. "You certainly have a strange way of expressing gratitude!"

"Indeed." The Sheriff agreed, rolling his eyes.

"Leave me be!" She cried.

"No. Not until we return you home." The Sheriff said sternly.

"But I told you…"

"You are going home." The Sheriff announced. "There shall be no debate about it. And then, after that, you shall never have to see us again."

Lady Brigid just shook her head and began to sulk. She had no choice.

Following this brief unpleasant interlude, the Sheriff was even more eager to return. He understood the woman was grieving, and was angry at him over Hector's death, but now she was being completely insufferable!

The men urged their horses into a gallop once more, and the journey home continued. The Sheriff and Guy never got the chance to speak with one another again, until Lady Brigid was delivered to her home just outside of the village, to a very emotional and grateful Lady Ostara Brimley. Unlike her daughter, she was filled with gratitude for the safe return of her daughter. In fact, she even invited them inside for some ale and a slice of pie that she had just taken from the oven. The men declined, thanking her anyway, for they were eager to return. After they had returned a still stunned Lady Brigid to her home, they continued along at a slightly faster pace. For the heavy clouds were rolling along, rain would be appearing soon. But, even more important, both were eager to return to their ladies.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Following mass, the ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn spoke briefly with the Bishop and a few other important figures about town on behalf of their men, and then made their way outside into the courtyard. They could tell that rain would be coming soon, and Meridwyn was needing a breath of fresh air before they returned inside the castle. As they were strolling along, Rhiannon opened conversation.

"How are you feeling today, Meridwyn?"

"Better now that we're outdoors." Meridwyn said. "I do hope the dizziness and nausea disappear soon. Thomas tells me that it won't last."

"That's a relief to know your entire confinement won't be completely miserable." Rhiannon said. "I can't imagine feeling like _**that**_ every day."

"It will be worth it, eventually." Meridwyn smiled.

"Indeed." Rhiannon said.

They sat a few moments alongside each other on a stone bench, taking in the scenes around them, then Lady Rhiannon changed the topic.

"Do you think our men might return to us this day?" She asked her friend. "It is Sunday."

"It's hard to predict. I'm trying not to think of it too much. That way I won't be disappointed if Guy doesn't return today." Meridwyn said.

"Yes. Perhaps it's too soon to expect them." Rhiannon agreed.

Meridwyn gazed up at the sky at the large grey clouds that covered it. "A storm is coming. It may slow their journey if they are on their way home to us."

"Somehow I doubt that." Rhiannon said. Nothing seemed to stop the Sheriff. She already knew that a little rain didn't faze him. She was certain no weather would. Unless perhaps - he was at sea during a storm. She shuddered. For, suddenly she thought of her brother, Robert's fate. Why was she thinking so much of Robert lately?

"Rhiannon. Are you with me?" Meridwyn asked.

"Excuse me?" Rhiannon said as she looked up at her.

"You seemed far away just now. What were you thinking of?" Meridwyn asked.

"Oh, forgive me. What were you saying?" Rhiannon asked, embarrassed that she wasn't paying attention. She swallowed. Her mouth was growing very dry again. Suddenly she was wishing there was something available to her to drink.

"It doesn't matter." Meridwyn said. "But, what were you thinking of a minute ago? You looked almost…melancholy?"

"Isn't that funny, I don't remember." Rhiannon said. "I presume it mustn't have been too important." She shrugged.

"Indeed." Meridwyn remarked with one eyebrow raised quizzically.

The wind picked up around them, suddenly. Some leaves began to fall toward them as they were positioned near a tree. A couple of large leaves began to swirl near Meridwyn's head.

Suddenly, Rhiannon startled Meridwyn when her eyes widened and she jumped up abruptly from where she was seated. She moved in toward Lady Meridwyn and began to swat at the air near Meridwyn's face. Meridwyn jumped back.

"Rhiannon! What are you doing?" Meridwyn cried.

"Birds!" Rhiannon shrieked. "Why are they so close to us?"

"What?" Meridwyn asked, incredulous.

"Can't you see them? Can't you hear them flapping their wings about your ears?" Rhiannon cried as she continued to wave her arms about.

Meridwyn grabbed both of her hands.

"Rhiannon!" Meridwyn shouted.

"What?" Rhiannon asked. Her pupils were quite large again, Meridwyn observed. What on earth was going on with her?

"My dear, there are _**no**_ birds. At least not down here!"

"But I saw them." A beat. "Didn't you?" Rhiannon asked, surprised, shaking her head.

"Those were leaves!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

Rhiannon blinked a few times trying to focus. Her vision was slightly blurred again.

"Oh." Rhiannon said.

"Are you alright?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes. I guess I'm just tired. I never sleep well when George is away." Rhiannon explained.

"One day you'll get used to it." Meridwyn smiled.

"I hope I never grow accustomed to his absence." Rhiannon began. "No matter how many times we shall be apart in the future."

"I'm sure they'll be returning to us in the next day or two." Meridwyn reassured as she patted Rhiannon's hand.

"Yes." Rhiannon smiled back. "Are you feeling well enough to go inside now?" She asked. "For, I feel a little chill and I'm desperate for a drink of water."

"Yes, I suppose so." Meridwyn replied. There was another thing that was odd about Rhiannon. She had seemed to be incredibly thirsty lately. Meridwyn couldn't put her finger on it, but she couldn't deny that her friend was surely behaving very oddly the last few days.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the evening, near dusk, Rhiannon was in the private chamber. The day was drawing to a close. Perhaps Meridwyn was right. Perhaps it was too soon to expect her lover's return.

She could hear the wind picking up, it was bringing a slight chill to the room. She went toward the table that sat below the mirror. Toward the flask of potion. She picked it up and poured a couple of ounces into the goblet and began to drink. This time she chased it down with water. For, she had asked the servants to top up the decanter of brandy in readiness for the Sheriff's arrival, and wanted it to be available to him when he returned.

She sighed. She wondered if her lover had accomplished what he'd set out to do? She hoped he was safe. Everyone kept reassuring her that he and Guy were surely safe. But how could they be certain? Did they think these men were not human? That they were omnipotent? They were made of flesh and blood just like everyone else!

She shook her head. She had to stop this line of thinking. She would go mad if she continued to think like this.

The rain was beginning. Just lightly for the moment. She took another sip from her water goblet for she had finished the potion. Curses! She drank the entire amount from her cup! She looked inside the pitcher. It was empty too! Mindlessly, she walked to the window. She extended her arm out of it and felt the rain beginning to fall. It felt so cool and wet on her skin.

Wet…

Suddenly she had an idea. She picked up the goblet and threw on her black velvet cape. Underneath she was wearing a gauzy, lightweight, white gown. Nobody would notice it under the cape. She decided to take a stroll. She needed water. The air might do her good as well. She put the goblet into the pocket of her hooded cape, and tied the black satin ribbons into a quick and sloppy bow to fasten it about her.

She went through the chamber, out into the den, and opened the door that led out into the hall. She was startled to see Luke there with the same guard whom she spoke with on Wednesday about summoning Mortianna to Lady Meridwyn's chamber, for the batwing tea request.

"Lady Rhiannon." Luke said upon greeting her. "Awfully late for walking about, isn't it?"

"Good evening, Luke." Rhiannon nodded.

Once again, Alfred eyed Luke, then Lady Rhiannon, curious over their familiarity with one another.

"Yes. I need a brief breath of air. I think it may help me to sleep better." She lied.

"I'd keep it brief, my lady." Alfred spoke up. "It's awfully late and rain is coming."

It already came, Rhiannon thought. "Indeed." She said. "I shall not be long. Excuse me." She said as she went on her way.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was beginning to grow dark when the Sheriff and Guy returned to the castle. They returned their horses to the stable master, then parted ways once they went through the main entrance of the castle.

A few moments upon entering the castle, the Sheriff saw the Scribe.

"My Lord." The Scribe said. "You've returned!"

"Yes." The Sheriff said. "I need you to do something for me."

"Yes, my Lord. What is it?" The Scribe asked, eager to please his master.

"Send a message to the Barons, and particularly to the Sheriffs of the two other counties involved in the disappearances of the maidens. Inform them for me that the man responsible is now dead. He was killed on August twenty eighth." The Sheriff announced.

"Yes, my Lord." The Scribe said.

"What happened with the proclamations?" The Sheriff asked.

"I looked them over when the artists summoned me early Tuesday morning. All were identical to the one you approved." The Scribe said. "They were issued to heralds for distribution." He added.

"Good. I trust you paid them for me?"

"Yes, my Lord." The Scribe said.

The Sheriff nodded then continued on his way.

Fifteen minutes later, he was walking along the familiar stone corridor with myriad torches ensconced along the walls, toward his private chambers. It was late. He assumed Lady Rhiannon would be there.

He approached the door and found his usual sentry there along with Luke.

"Good evening, Luke." The Sheriff greeted him. Then he turned to his other guard. "And you…uh…Alan is it? No, wait! Albert!" The Sheriff smiled.

"No, sir, it is Alfred." The guard corrected.

"Right." The Sheriff remarked, absently.

"I trust your journey went well, my Lord?" Luke asked.

"Yes, it was successful." The Sheriff said with his hand now upon the door handle.

"Your lady is not inside the chambers." Alfred pointed out.

"Oh really? But, it is late." The Sheriff remarked, puzzled.

"Indeed, my Lord." Luke chimed in. "When she was on her way out, she told us she needed some air."

"Yes." Alfred added. "She said she thought it would help her sleep better."

The Sheriff shook his head. "But, it is raining?" He said. Though, he had a funny feeling it wouldn't matter to her.

"Indeed, my Lord. She said she would be brief." Luke said.

"And when did my lady take leave?" The Sheriff asked.

"It was just after dusk." Luke replied.

The Sheriff nodded. What he really wanted was a few sips of the tincture of rapture. Something to help him relax. But that would have to wait. He turned back and walked in the same direction from which he came. He knew. He had a strong suspicion of where she might be.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Outside, in the cool, dark mist, the rain was picking up. Rhiannon pulled the hood of her black velvet cape up and placed it over her head. She was walking through the gardens, out beyond the garden wall. She pulled the goblet out of her pocket and held it out. As she was attempting to collect some rain water in her cup, she stuck out her tongue to taste the raindrops. But the rain wasn't falling hard enough, yet.

After she walked for a time, she found a stone bench to sit upon. She looked at her goblet. She now had a little rain water collected within it, maybe half of an ounce. Well, that was better than nothing. She picked up the goblet and quickly downed the meagre amount. This was going to take awhile. She could wait. What else did she have to do? Besides sit by the window in the private chamber, gazing out into the distance, wondering where her lover was at the moment. Measuring the time alone, until he returned to her. For, at the end of the day, that is what she always would do. And then she would worry. And then, she would toss about restlessly, in the large, empty, four poster bed. Clinging to his pillow and burying her face into it, until the last remnants of his scent had completely dissipated from the soft, silky bed linens.

She looked at the goblet. There wasn't enough rain water within it to drink. So she stretched out on her side along the bench and placed her goblet upon the ground within reach of her. It wouldn't take long to fill it…surely?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Guy entered into his private chambers. He found his Lady Meridwyn seated there, reclined against several pillows, still dressed in her soft pink gown, but her eyes were closed. He walked toward her, slowly.

Meridwyn stirred. For, she was aware somewhere in her semiconscious state that there was another presence in the chamber. She opened her eyes just as he stood at the edge of the bed.

"My love!" Meridwyn exclaimed. "Am I dreaming?"

"No, my dear." Guy said as he sat upon the bed beside her and leaned in to kiss her. His kiss was soft and gentle. Afterward he smiled and said: "Did that feel as good as your dreams?"

"No, my love. It was better!" Meridwyn smiled.

"How are you faring, my dearest? I've been worried about you." Guy said.

"Fine, my Lord. Except for being tired a great deal more than usual." Meridwyn said.

"You should rest." Guy said as he removed his gauntlets and his cloak. He placed them upon a chair near to the bed.

"I already did." Meridwyn smirked.

"But, you haven't been well." Guy pointed out.

"It is the mornings where I'm at my worst. This time of day seems to be the one time I feel at my best." Meridwyn winked.

"You're sure?" Guy asked. "But, the child…"

"It will be fine, my love." Meridwyn reassured him. She reached over and touched his smooth cheek. "Oh Guy, I missed you so."

"My lady." Guy whispered as he enveloped her into his arms. He desired her. But her health was more important to him than fulfilling his needs. "Are you sure you are well enough?" He asked her one more time.

She pulled away from his embrace.

"People should be less worried about me, and more concerned over Lady Rhiannon." She hinted.

Guy raised his eyebrow curiously. "Why is that, my love?"

"She has been acting rather oddly." Lady Meridwyn announced.

"How do you mean?" Guy asked.

"I started to notice it three days ago. She told me on Thursday she saw your cousin upon his horse riding toward the castle. She was adamant. It took a lot of convincing on my part to make her believe she was mistaken." Meridwyn said.

"Really? How strange." Guy mused.

"Yes. She did something else rather strange, just today in fact."

"What was that, Meridwyn?"

"Well, we were seated near a tree in the courtyard following mass. Some leaves began to fall from the tree nearby, and she thought they were birds!" Lady Meridwyn exclaimed.

"How very odd." Guy agreed.

"Indeed. She said she hasn't been sleeping well. She is not yet accustomed to being apart from the Sheriff." Meridwyn said.

"Well, hopefully the issue will be resolved now that we're back." Guy began. "For, surely she shall sleep better, now that George has returned to her. Don't worry, my love. I'm sure that's all it is." He reassured.

"Yes." Meridwyn agreed. "Was it a success? Your mission?"

"Yes, my love." Guy said as he smoothed her shiny red curls. "Now come here, my love. I've missed your touch." He held her in his arms as he kicked off his boots, then stretched out upon the bed beside her.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Finally the Sheriff exited the door that led out into the gardens. He walked along the path toward the garden wall where he and Lady Rhiannon first met, expecting to find her there. He didn't see her. He decided to keep going. He walked farther out into the mazes of hedges.

He was walking for an additional ten minutes, it felt like he was wandering in circles. The rain was picking up, but he ignored it. He knew in his gut that his lady was out here somewhere.

Finally, he thought he spotted something. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision in the dark, and the rain that was now pelting upon his face and his eyelashes. Twenty yards ahead there was a figure of a woman laying upon one of the benches up against a tall hedge. There was a shiny object on the ground beside her. He stepped a little closer. It was Lady Rhiannon.

"My lady?" He called to her, curious why she was laying on the bench, oblivious to the rain falling upon her.

Rhiannon began to stir. She thought she'd heard a voice. She opened her eyes, for she closed them briefly. She sat up. She remembered the goblet. She reached down and grabbed it. Good. There was now half a goblet of rain water collected in it. Just as she brought it to her lips, she was irritated by the sudden interruption.

"My lady." The Sheriff said. He was now about ten feet from her.

Who was that? She heard a voice. She looked around. She saw the figure of a man off to the left. She couldn't tell exactly how far away he was, for her vision was slightly blurred again. All she saw was a tall, dark figure. She shuddered. She was reminded of her captor. The one who did something to her. What was it again? She held the edges of her cape close about her and arose from the bench. She began to walk quickly away from him.

What was wrong with her? Did she not recognize his voice? What was that in her hand? The Sheriff shook his head and advanced quickly toward her. Finally, he was right behind her.

"My Lady Rhiannon." The Sheriff said.

Lady Rhiannon turned around. She stood a moment, blinking a few times. The Sheriff was inches away from her, but she still couldn't focus very well.

"George?" She asked. "Is that you?"

The Sheriff smiled. "Can't you tell, my love? I'm standing right in front of you!"

She blinked again. Finally, there was no mistaking it. He was dressed in his black leather coat studded in silver, a heavy black cloak over that. His wavy black hair was glistening in the rain. Finally, she found his eyes.

She inched in closer and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. "Oh, my love! You've returned to me!" She smiled. "I knew you would! Nobody would believe me, but I knew in my heart you'd be back this day. I could feel it." She said.

The Sheriff eyed her curiously. "Yes, my angel." He said. "Our mission was a success."

"Oh, good!" Rhiannon said. Then she looked down and squinted her eyes. "Forgive me." She said as she slowly looked back up into his eyes. "What was it, again?"

"What?" He asked, puzzled.

"Your mission. I've forgotten." Rhiannon said.

He shook his head. For, she couldn't be serious? "We went to rescue a Nottingham maid who was held captive by the same man who once held you." He reminded her.

"Oh, good! And was it successful?"

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. "Yes. It was. I just told you, my angel." He replied, stunned by her behaviour.

"Is he dead." She asked nonchalantly.

"Yes." The Sheriff said as he stroked her cheek.

"Good." Rhiannon said.

Just as the Sheriff was leaning in to kiss her again, she surprised him by bringing her right hand up to her, she held a goblet in her hand. She brought the goblet to her lips and began to drink.

"Forgive me." She said after a few sips. "I'm so incredibly thirsty." Then she continued to drink until she drained the entire contents. Then she angrily looked inside of it, and held it upside down attempting to shake loose a few drops upon her tongue.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north as he regarded her curiously. Why was she behaving so oddly?

"Curses!" She suddenly exclaimed. She angrily tossed the goblet to the ground.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff began. What on earth was wrong with her?

"I need water. Must have water." Rhiannon said.

That's funny, the Sheriff thought. She's acting like she's drinking mead!

She held out her palms and began to collect some rain water. He was stunned as he stared at her squinting his eyes and shaking his head, for she was not paying attention to him anyway. When she was satisfied with it, she brought her palms up to her lips and began to drink.

"My angel, are you quite yourself?" The Sheriff asked.

"I am so…thirsty. I need water, all of the time. I can't get enough of it!" Rhiannon said.

"Are you unwell?" The Sheriff asked.

"No. No, I'm fine, my Lord." Rhiannon reassured. "Though, I do not know why I'm so thirsty so much of the time?"

"You're certain?" The Sheriff asked, his left eyebrow raised again.

"Yes." Rhiannon smiled. She wondered if he had any idea what that mindless facial expression of his did to her every time he executed it. Suddenly, she felt herself grow warm just looking at him, despite the cool rain and wind.

"Do not worry, my love. All is well." She said.

"Come, my angel. It is raining." The Sheriff commanded.

Rhiannon looked up at him then lowered her eyes. She cast that seductive sideways glance at him that drove him to madness and said: "Just like the first time you kissed me. Touched me. The first night we were together." Rhiannon hinted. "And now it is raining." A beat. "Get it?" She smirked.

He put his arm around her and leaned in and kissed her earlobe. "Oh yes, my angel." The Sheriff whispered. "I get it, indeed." He grinned.

She leaned into him as they walked together toward the castle.

Twenty minutes later, they were in the den. Rhiannon excused herself to the private chamber. She wanted to remove her cape. The Sheriff poured them each a libation of brandy, after he removed his gauntlets, cloak, and his coat.

Rhiannon closed the doors leading into the chamber behind her. There was something she wanted to take care of before he came in. What was it again? She unfastened the black satin ribbon that secured the cape at the top of it, and cast it to a chair. She looked around the room. Curses! Why couldn't she remember what she came here to do?

Suddenly, the doors flew open. She turned around. The Sheriff stood there holding two silver goblets. Rhiannon stood at the foot of the bed in a white, almost diaphanous gown. But the gown was now damp and it clung to her perfectly curved body.

The Sheriff swallowed. He could see her breasts as clearly as if she stood naked before him. Suddenly, she appeared even more alluring to him than if she had been naked. As if she was clothed in a very thin veil of white.

He sighed. He tried to ignore the sensations she was causing within him, but he couldn't deny that the sight of her was making him hard for her. He would have to resist. It was too soon. Why, it was only last week she remembered her attack. He knew she wouldn't be ready for his intimacy, yet. Even though, she was strongly hinting otherwise, just moments ago in the gardens.

The Sheriff walked slowly toward her. "Some brandy, my lady?" The Sheriff offered.

"Yes." Rhiannon swallowed. He came toward her and held out the goblet to her.

She reached out and lightly caressed his fingers before she touched the cool metal of the goblet and took it from his grasp. She brought the goblet to her lips and sipped the soothing brandy. It warmed her and began to relax her. Though, it did nothing to satisfy her insatiable thirst.

She smiled at him. "You must be tired, my love." She said.

"No, my lady." He smiled. "Instead, I'm rather awakened." The Sheriff said. His fixed his hazel eyes upon her.

"I'm so happy you're back." Rhiannon said. "I missed you."

"I know." He said. "I missed you too." The Sheriff was curious about the potion he knew she was taking. Yet he couldn't ask about it. Rhiannon didn't know that he knew.

"Forgive me, my love." Rhiannon began. "The brandy is soothing, but it is doing nothing to satisfy my thirst." She walked toward the table placed below the mirror. The pitcher of water was over there. She sat the goblet down on the table.

The Sheriff eyed her strangely. What was this curious thirst of hers all of a sudden?

Before she picked up the pitcher, she spotted it. The Sheriff's flask! That was what she intended to take care of! He would wonder what it was doing sitting out, and what was in it. For, she had it filled, almost to the top with Mortianna's magic potion. The potion she stole out of her apothecary. She sighed. She couldn't think about that now. She would ponder that later.

She stood there with her back to him, trying to block his view. Her chiffon scarf was lying there, carelessly. She remembered putting it there when she returned from mass. She quickly picked it up and folded it a couple of times then arranged it over the flask. She couldn't do what she wanted with the flask, not yet. For, the Sheriff was only a few feet behind her.

"My lady?" The Sheriff said, puzzled.

She suddenly picked up the pitcher and looked inside. "Curses!" She spat as she held it upside down and shaking it. "Oh, it's gone! I have drank all of it!" She suddenly remembered the reason she went outside with the goblet. Why was she having difficulty recalling the simplest of things? She picked up the goblet of brandy and took a sip. It wasn't good enough. She brought it back to her lips and downed the entire contents.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked.

"That's better. Marginally." Rhiannon commented.

He slowly walked toward her. She turned around.

"You sure you're quite yourself?" The Sheriff asked again.

"Yes, I'm fine." She smiled. She put the goblet down and beckoned for him to come closer.

The Sheriff moved in, unlacing the strings of his tunic as he did so. He was suddenly warmed.

Rhiannon inched in closer and ran her hands softly over the silky fabric of his tunic, over his strong shoulders, his biceps, and then over his chest. She looked into his eyes and maintained her gaze.

The Sheriff smiled. He could already tell whatever Mortianna had given her was working. For, not only was she touching him, she was looking directly at him with her soft green eyes. And for more than just a second, unlike her actions right before he left on his mission. Was she trying to seduce him?

"My lady." The Sheriff smiled. "Are you certain you want this?" He asked.

"Yes, my love." Rhiannon sighed. She burned her sultry green eyes into his. "Just touch me once, and you'll know it's the truth." She smiled. Then she lowered her eyelids. He began to stir.

He sighed. He hoped she wasn't just toying with him. For, he wanted her. Desperately. Ever since a week ago in fact, but then, it was interrupted by the cursed memory of the Fallen Knight. He put his goblet down beside her scarf that was crumpled up carelessly upon the table. Then he swiftly lifted her into his arms as quick as lightening and carried her to the bed. She laid back upon the soft bed and the silky linens and pillows.

He kicked off his boots and fell upon the bed beside her. "My lady." He growled as he leaned down. He searched her eyes with his a moment.

"I love being your lady." Rhiannon whispered.

Suddenly his mouth landed hard upon hers, hungrily devouring the taste of her. She touched his tongue with hers and returned his passionate, languid kiss, breathlessly.

She lifted his tunic over his head and he began to push her gown upwards as he stroked her smooth skin, starting at her calf and working his way up, slowly, along her velvety soft curves. He thought he would die if he didn't have her.

"I'm on fire for you, my lady." The Sheriff whispered as he slowly and methodically removed her gown from her glorious body. The dim light of the candles nearby bathed her still damp skin in an aura of light. The energy drew him in.

Her skin was receptive to his touch, even before he made contact. For, just the energy of his hands, inches away from her skin, she could feel it. Her body was receptive to it. She realized that all he needed to do was breathe upon her and she was instantly open to him.

"Take me, my love." She whispered. "I've missed you."

She playfully unlaced the strings to his codpiece, casting it aside, then slowly unlaced his breeches. He moaned as she found her way inside and began to touch him. Stroking him softly, then gradually increasing the rhythm and the pressure until he thought he would explode. He reached down, caressing her skin until he found it, right between the top of her inner thighs. She was wet. She was right when she said if he touched her once, he would know.

"Oh, my angel." He breathed into her ear.

"Don't stop." She murmured as she continued to please him with the soft touch of her hands.

He continued to please her as he kissed her and breathed his energy beyond her lips.

Suddenly, she let go of him and gently pushed him off her and unto his back. Then she climbed upon him and straddled him, slowly, very slowly, inching her body down toward him, until they were a perfect fit.

"My lady Rhiannon." The Sheriff smiled as he looked deeply into her eyes. "You surprise me all of the time." He said.

"I told you I missed you." She breathed.

And so, they began to please one another, awakening each other's senses in the forest primeval, inside the glow of the master's private chamber. Their fantasies unfurled as they found new ways to please each other, until their energy was completely spent and they fell into a blissful sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

It was about an hour past sunrise on Monday morning when the Sheriff awakened. He thought he heard the bell pealing in the den. He shook his head. He must have been dreaming. He looked at his lady lying beside him. She appeared to be sleeping, but why were her eyes half open? He sat up abruptly and leaned on his elbow, startled to see her looking like that.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff whispered.

She murmured something but didn't wake up. He sighed. Perhaps she was just exhausted, as obviously he had been. There it was again. Mortianna was summoning. He arose from the bed. He quickly threw on his trousers and laced them. Then he donned his boots and his voluminous black satin robe. He walked into the den, threw open the door and descended the stairs. When he opened the creaking door downstairs, he called to her.

"Mortianna?" The Sheriff called. Where was she? He muttered in annoyance and walked inside.

Finally, he heard her gown rustling along the floor.

"My child! You've returned." Mortianna said. She looked surprised to see him. Was she jesting?

"What matter of importance is it now, Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked. "Because, it must be of vital importance for you to call at such an early hour." He said.

"If you must know, it was not _**you **_that I was calling for." Mortianna said as she turned and went back to the cauldron that was heating on the fire.

The Sheriff shook his head and swiftly walked up behind her.

"If you weren't calling me - then what? Did you ring it by accident? Or, are you going to tell me that one of your cursed birds flew over to pull the cord with their beak?" He spat.

"I was calling for your lady." Mortianna said, as she stirred the mixture in her cauldron.

"My lady? What for? Is she in danger?" The Sheriff asked with his eyebrow raised.

"No. It is time for her potion." Mortianna replied.

"Potion? Didn't you already give it to her?" The Sheriff asked. He was certain that Rhiannon had already taken it. Last night! She was wild and uninhibited then? She had to have taken it. How could she have given herself so completely to him if she still remembered her attack?

"Oh, yes, my Lord. She _**has**_ been taking it. For nearly a week now." Mortianna announced.

"What?" He asked, incredulous.

"Remember I told you about the plant? It is a dangerous seed." She reminded him.

"Yes."

"You wanted it weak." Mortianna said.

"Yes, yes. What of it?" He huffed in frustration.

"I did make it weak. And as a further safety measure, I felt it best to administer a small dose given at twenty four hour intervals. I wasn't sure what one complete dose would do if given all at once, so I felt it best to give it in this manner." Mortianna explained.

The Sheriff smiled. "Brilliant, Mortianna. Yes, now that you've explained it, it makes perfect sense."

"Good. So why don't you wake her for me?" Mortianna asked matter of factly.

"She does not know that we spoke about this." The Sheriff said.

"Well, she might as well know now." Mortianna said.

She went to the wall, pulled the cord, and began to ring the tiny bells in the Sheriff's den.

The Sheriff stood looking at her, stunned.

"My Lord, there is one thing I need to tell you. Before Lady Rhiannon comes down to see me." Mortianna began.

"What is that?"

"I did not tell her what it is I'm using to erase her memory." Mortianna announced.

"She does not know?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"No. And we will not tell her." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north.

Mortianna continued. "I warned you of the dangers of thorn apple seed. For some people, it creates a dependency. True, I'm giving her a weak concentration in small amounts, and in divided doses. But I still don't know if she could become dependent on it." Mortianna explained. "And so, I told her I would _**not**_ tell her the name of the plant used. I do not want her to know where to find it, where it grows." She stated, confidently.

The Sheriff smiled. " Mortianna, you've thought of everything." He was pleased. The witch had been doing everything in her power to ensure his lady's safety.

"And the extra measure along with that, is that I insist she drink it in my presence. She wanted to take it with her. I told her she'd be given no opportunity to hoard it." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff shook his head slightly. Stunned by how well his counsel had thought out every last detail in the matter. He was pleased. She took his instruction seriously, to lengths he never would have thought of.

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They turned around. In moments, Lady Rhiannon appeared at the foot of the stairs. She had put her velvet dressing gown on over the same white gown she was wearing the night before. She was fastening her sash and checking her pockets.

"I'm here, Mortianna!" She called as she entered in the apothecary. She looked up. "Oh! My Lord? What are you doing here?" Lady Rhiannon asked, startled to see him there.

Mortianna came forward. "He knows, my child."

"What?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed, incredulous.

"Forgive me, my child. It was I. When you came seeking my assistance, I knew what would work to serve you in your quest. But if you recall, I told you it was a dangerous seed." Mortianna said.

"But?..."

"I had to discuss the matter with him before I agreed to it. I guess you can thank him, because he agreed to it. The Sheriff is the reason that you've been receiving a daily measure of this mixture each morning. If he didn't approve it, you'd be in the same situation you were in when you came to see me a week ago." Mortianna said.

Rhiannon shook her head slightly, stunned. She almost felt like…she was being controlled.

"Is nothing private in this damned castle?" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed suddenly.

"My lady." The Sheriff said as he moved in toward her.

"No!" Lady Rhiannon said, turning away from him with her arms folded.

Mortianna walked slowly toward her. "My child, everything you've told me is indeed private. This was the only time I involved another person." She smiled. "For, I was aware of the strong potential for danger. I have never worked with this plant. I needed to discuss the risks with your betrothed, as well as you." Mortianna said.

Lady Rhiannon stood staring at her, still rather stunned.

"You see, my child, I wish no harm to come to neither you, nor my Lord. And whatever affects one of you, will affect the other. If serious harm came to you, I needed the Sheriff to be forewarned. In this matter, I needed to think of every detail." Mortianna explained. For, it was true, her intention was pure.

Lady Rhiannon sighed. It did appear that Mortianna was genuinely concerned for her welfare.

"My child." Mortianna continued. "My only mistake was not telling you my intent to speak with the Sheriff. I promise if a situation like this arises again, I will tell you if I feel we should share it with your betrothed. Otherwise, any dealings we shall have in future, shall be strictly between us."

"Alright." Lady Rhiannon said. "You're right – you should have told me you intended to tell him. But I suppose you were just concerned about the effects on me."

"Indeed." Mortianna said.

Rhiannon didn't know what she was more distressed about. The fact that the Sheriff knew, even before she did that Mortianna would agree to do this for her. Or the fact that, once again, there would be no opportunity to obtain an extra measure of the potion. Not now. Not with two pairs of eyes watching her, even though the witch only had one good one. She suspected she was more disturbed by the second point. She sighed and let her right hand wander slowly to her gown pocket. The vial was there. She could feel it. Not that it mattered now. Curses! She looked up at the Sheriff.

"Do you know what it is she is giving me?" Rhiannon asked him.

The Sheriff didn't answer right away. For the first time he wasn't sure if it was better to lie, or to tell the truth. He looked at Mortianna. She nodded. She told him in a glance that it would not serve him to lie.

He cleared his throat. "Yes." He said.

"You know?"

"Yes, but I don't know much about it. Mortianna is the expert. Indeed, it is like I know, yet I don't know, all at the same time. She had to explain everything about it to me." The Sheriff said as he looked into her eyes. None of what he said was a lie. He hardly knew anything about thorn apple seed, jimsonweed, or whatever else it was called!

She had to admit, he was genuine. She could tell. He never broke eye contact the whole time he spoke.

The Sheriff smiled, then turned and headed for the doorway.

"Wait." Lady Rhiannon called to him.

The Sheriff turned around.

"It's okay. Stay. You know the worst of it anyway. The reason that brought me to Mortianna in the first place." Lady Rhiannon said. Though lately she was having trouble remembering what the reason was.

He smiled and returned to the apothecary.

"If Mortianna agrees to it." The Sheriff said.

"Yes." Mortianna said. She beckoned for him to stand back close to where the cauldron and her implements were located, about six feet from the small table.

Rhiannon took a seat at the smaller table. Mortianna walked in the direction of the Sheriff to obtain her implements. The Sheriff observed her curiously. It seemed she needed a good deal of supplies.

She picked up all of her necessary items. She brought the bowl, vial, and stir stick with her. She placed them on the table. Then she turned around and faced the Sheriff.

"There is a small silver cup of ale on the table, there beside the cauldron. Right behind where you're standing. Would you be so kind to bring it to me?" She asked.

The Sheriff nodded and turned around. He saw it right away. He picked it up and brought it over to her. Mortianna took it from him and placed it on the table in front of Rhiannon.

Mortianna took the seat opposite from Lady Rhiannon. She motioned for the Sheriff to return to where he stood before he brought the cup to her. He went back to it, and stood facing them with his arms folded, curious to see what would happen. He'd never been present when Mortianna was with another subject before.

"Now, my child." Mortianna said to Lady Rhiannon. "Tell me, how do you feel?"

"I feel well." Rhiannon said.

"Have you noticed anything unusual?" The witch asked her.

"Just thirst." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff nodded. He remembered her behaviour the night before, in the gardens and back in the private chambers. She was desperate to drink water. He'd witnessed it.

Mortianna nodded. "That is an unpleasant side effect of the…plant." She almost blurted out the name of it. She was glad she caught herself. "It's curious that you are experiencing that, however. Expecially since you haven't taken enough of it to cause such a reaction." Mortianna said with her eyebrows raised.

"Yes." Rhiannon replied, her eyes downcast. She was afraid to meet her gaze then. She didn't want Mortianna to suspect she was hiding something. "It's not that terrible." Rhiannon said. "I can deal with it."

"Indeed. Now, what memory are we trying to erase?" Mortianna asked.

The Sheriff was still very surprised at Mortianna. She was already testing Lady Rhiannon's memory. He guessed to use as an indicator of when to cease administering the potion. Indeed, the crone had thought of everything!

"I need water." Rhiannon blurted. "Do you have water?"

Mortianna eyed her strangely. "You did not answer." She said.

"Just a sip of water, and then I will answer you." Rhiannon bargained.

Mortianna nodded. She got up, and walked over to the table near where the Sheriff was standing. She found a pitcher there and began to pour into another cup. Then she turned and swiftly glided back to the table. She passed the cup to Rhiannon.

Rhiannon tool it and drank the entire contents of it in one smooth draught. Then she placed it back on the table.

"Again, my child. What memory do you wish to forget?"

"Him." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Whom?" Mortianna asked.

"That vile man who held me prisoner." Rhiannon replied.

"What did the man do?" Mortianna probed.

The Sheriff shifted nervously. Perhaps it would've been best if he hadn't stayed.

"He hurt me." Lady Rhiannon said quietly. She knew that was the answer Mortianna was seeking. It worked every time she couldn't recall exactly how the man had hurt her.

"Yes." Mortianna sighed. She picked up the stick and began to stir the contents in the bowl. Then the Sheriff observed her pick the bowl up, and she carefully poured a tiny amount into a very small vial. She handed the vial to Lady Rhiannon.

"Take it, my child. Drink all from this vial." She commanded her.

Rhiannon took it, brought it to her lips, and took it quickly. Then she picked up the cup of ale and chased down the vile taste of the potion. She put the cup down and her hands fell to her lap.

The Sheriff watched her. Why was his lady fiddling with her dressing gown under the table? Like she was looking for something? Or was he mistaken?

He leaned back against the table. As he did so, a flask of lavender oil that was unbeknownst to him, sitting on the table, fell off of the table and smashed to the floor, sending some of the oil into the fire where the cauldron was brewing. He felt a sudden heat behind him, but Mortianna reacted before he could.

"Oh, for the love of Zeus!" Mortianna exclaimed, as she turned and saw the catastrophe ensuing at the sound of the glass breaking. She bolted up from the table and ran toward him.

He looked at her strangely, for he did not yet know. "What, Madam?" he asked her.

"The fire!" Mortianna shrieked. "Step away!"

Rhiannon looked to her right. There was complete chaos going on by the cauldron. The Sheriff and Mortianna were looking for something to extinguish the small fire, neither of them looking in her direction. She smiled mischievously.

She quickly grabbed the empty vial from her pocket. She knew she was being brazen, but she needed the potion. She quickly unscrewed the cap under the table, keeping her eyes upon the Sheriff and Mortianna who were off to her right. She grabbed the bowl and brought it to her lap, and quickly poured into the vial. She put the bowl back from where it came, and looked over to her right again. The cauldron had been moved to the floor, and the two of them were smothering the fire with a heavy rug that had been on the floor near the washstand. She looked back into her lap.

The Sheriff was satisfied that they had controlled the small fire, and Mortianna was now repositioning the cauldron back over the fire. He turned back to look upon his lady. What was she doing? She was looking to her lap and her hands were there under the table. She was concentrating on something. What was she up to? He wondered.

"My Lady?" He said as he moved in closer to her.

"Yes?" Rhiannon looked up. Her hands remained in her lap.

"What were you doing just now?" The Sheriff asked, his eyes narrowed curiously.

She transferred the vial to her left hand. He was to her right. She slowly slid her left hand into her pocket.

"Just a few seconds ago." He asked as he advanced toward her until he stood three feet away.

"Oh, that." Rhiannon said absently. She was glad she was thinking this morning.

The Sheriff moved in closer still. "What's in your hand?" He asked her directly.

"Nothing." She muttered weakly.

"What…is in…your hand?" The Sheriff repeated slowly, with his voice raised a few decibels higher.

She let the vial fall deeper into her pocket, out of her grasp.

He moved in suddenly and circled to her left. He grabbed her left wrist suddenly, and swiftly pulled it out of her pocket. All he saw was the ruby and diamond ring upon her finger that he had given to her.

"I was playing with it." Rhiannon said as she looked up at him.

He raised his eyebrow at her. She tried to ignore it.

"I was polishing the stones with the sash on my gown. Sometimes I like to…make them shine." She said.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yes." Rhiannon lied.

The Sheriff smiled. It appeared she was telling the truth. Still there was something about her behaviour lately, he couldn't put his finger on it. He would be watching her. Now he was home, and he would spend more time watching over her. He couldn't deny it, something was definitely strange about her.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

The Duke and his men were too far in the north in the county of York to see any of the proclamations yet. It would be at least a week before the Sheriff's proclamations arrived to the area where his men were spread out in. They hadn't had much luck in their pursuit of the blacksmith and his wife. It was as if the couple had vanished. The men were still divided in two groups, and continuing to follow the maps that Richard had drawn. They were growing weary and frustrated. On this day, Duke Farnsworth, Richard, and Nigel were riding alongside one another, and were close to entering yet another small village.

"I doubt we shall have any luck here either." Richard muttered.

"We must be persistent." The Duke said. "We're going to interview as many people as possible."

"What good will that do?" Nigel questioned. He was growing tired of the mission, and very eager to return home.

"We ask as many people as possible if they've noticed any newcomers to their village. Particularly any couples with a small babe." The Duke replied.

"Huh!" Nigel huffed. "There's got to be hundreds of babies in this cursed country with dark curly hair and green eyes. Even if we think we've found the child, how will we be so sure?" He asked.

"Because - I've never forgotten the faces of that man and his wife." Duke Farnsworth said. He paused a moment regarding both of them, their horses were slowed to a cantor. "I'm not giving up. And neither are you two." He said.

"I do hope we wrap this up soon." Richard remarked. "We're getting precariously close to the region occupied by the Celts. I'm just as loyal to the Sheriff as you are, Duke, but this mission is beginning to look futile."

"No." The Duke countered. "It is _**not**_ futile. How far could one man, his wife, an infant, and one horse with a cart go? It's not like he has help. No. We keep going. We do not relent." The Duke spoke adamantly.

"I do hope your convictions are right." Nigel commented.

"He's going to be needing work. Unless - he had a good deal of savings." The Duke went on. "How much of a fortune could a blacksmith hold? Maybe we've just been asking the wrong questions." He mused.

"Yes. How many blacksmiths are there in any given village? Two? Maybe three at best?" Richard pointed out.

"And some don't have any at all." The Duke said. "We will persist. We are not heading back to Nottingham until we have the three of them in custody. And when we do, I'll find a messenger to send word to the Sheriff. In the meantime, let's focus on the mission. Enough with this complaining. You are Black Knights. You've endured worse circumstances than the one you're in now." The Duke reminded his men.

Nigel and Richard nodded. Indeed, they had no choice. The three men urged their horses to a gallop along the path, each hoping for a break – some glimmer of hope they prayed would present to them soon.

________________________________________________________________________________________

In the afternoon, there was yet another meeting in the Council Quarters. It was an hour into the tiresome meeting and already the Sheriff was bored. It seemed he hadn't missed much while he was away. How he grew tired of the tedium at times. He realized then that though they were necessary, the town council meetings were probably one of the items at the top of his list, of the things he hated the most about his duty as the Sheriff. As Guy asked around the table if there were any other points of mention, his ears pricked up when the village tax collector spoke.

"The taxes have been collected from the local merchants, my Lord. I have them with me." The man spoke. He was tall and muscled, with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and sported a few days worth of beard growth.

"Right, Gregor." The Sheriff said. "So, where is it?" He asked him pointedly.

The Sheriff eyed him curiously as the man began to reach down under the large oak table. He brought a small chest up from the floor. He arose from his chair and walked around to the head of the table where the Sheriff was seated, and placed the chest on the table in front of him.

The Sheriff opened the chest. "Yes." The Sheriff said as he ran his hands through the cool coins. "Well, Gregor, you're my tax collector – what's this? Been drinking too much mead lately? So much so, that you can no longer count? Or, is business slow in the village?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously.

"My Lord?" Gregor said.

"There was more in the treasury last month." The Sheriff said. "What's the meaning of this? Any fool can see that you've come up short. So, what is it? One of the excuses I already stated?" The Sheriff asked as he slowly arose from his seat. "Or, are you in fact, keeping some of the money for yourself?" He asked accusingly with his left eyebrow pointing northward.

"No, my Lord." Gregor replied. "Indeed, you were right. Business seems to have been slow in the village."

"Is that so?" The Sheriff remarked sarcastically.

"Indeed, my Lord. The merchants tell me it is difficult to amass enough money when they have to pay too many taxes – for their properties as well as their businesses." Gregor said.

"Well they had just better get used to it, hadn't they?" The Sheriff spat.

"Yes, my Lord." Gregor replied. The Sheriff nodded for him to return to his seat.

"Is there anything else?" The Sheriff asked as he scanned the faces around the table.

His Knight spoke. "Yes, my Lordship. There uhh….is one other thing." He began.

The Sheriff sighed. "Oh, let me guess…the blacksmith has failed…yet again." The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "What is it now?"

"It's the helms, sir. Some of the men are complaining they are too small."

"Splendid. First he gives me a headache, now he gives my men a headache! Curses!" The Sheriff spat. "This inept man is costing me money!" He roared. He turned to his Scribe.

"Scribe!"

"Yes, my Lord?" The old man replied.

"Withhold the wages from this paltry ferret!" The Sheriff demanded. "Commencing today until further notice." He added.

The Scribe nodded and made a note of it on his writing tablet.

The Sheriff looked around the table at the men gathered there. "And if one of you could find me a _**real**_ blacksmith, it would be very useful. I already made this request! Is there nobody to take his place? Or did any of you even bother to look for another?" He asked them collectively.

"There isn't one. Not for miles, it seems." The town crier spoke.

"Well, this is certainly becoming a nuisance. No – more like a festering pustule! I'm starting to wonder if I should just take up with a hammer and an anvil myself! In fact, perhaps this will motivate you…twenty five crowns to the person who can find me a competent blacksmith!" The Sheriff shouted. "Without a good blacksmith, I might as well not have Knights!"

The men gathered at the meeting nodded their agreement.

"Good. Now that that is settled… if there is nothing else, than we shall continue this discussion next week." He said.

The meeting adjourned. After everyone had left, Guy stayed behind to speak with his cousin.

"Cousin, I wonder if I could speak to you about a particular matter?" He began.

"Yes, Guy. What is it?" The Sheriff asked.

"Regarding my nuptials with Lady Meridwyn." Guy said.

"Right. You told me you wanted to get that out of the way." The Sheriff said.

"Indeed. Before anyone in the village starts talking." Guy added.

"Yes. Have you a particular day in mind?"

"Next week, actually. But I haven't spoken to my lady about it." Guy replied.

"Well, that's good, cousin. Finally – something to look forward to! I haven't even been able to think of my own wedding with all of these other matters going on around me." The Sheriff huffed.

"Then you…support it?" Guy asked.

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?" The Sheriff asked, somewhat bewildered.

"Because it is so close to your own wedding date."

"My wedding…" The Sheriff mused. "I know, in fact, it is only weeks away, but sometimes it feels like years away. So much to plan yet. So many other matters directing my attention away from it. Sometimes I don't even feel like I am engaged." He said.

Guy looked at him strangely.

"What I mean is that I could use a holiday. If I could just be permitted to shut my thoughts out for a few days, and just focus on my lady, then I would feel like I was engaged." He explained. "But you…well, we must concern ourselves with you first." The Sheriff grinned. "At least you won't have to worry about fulfilling your husbandly duties within a month's time of marrying her." He winked.

Guy smiled. "Indeed."

"Are you taking her anywhere afterward?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, but not too far. My manor in Nettlestone." Guy replied.

"She will like that." The Sheriff said.

"Indeed. I thought I'd use the opportunity to see to it that the manor is prepared for the arrival of your child too." Guy added.

The Sheriff smiled. "You remembered."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. Will you be gone long? I'd like you and your lady present at our wedding."

"Just a week, I think. I'm sure you will be needing me to resume my duties." Guy said.

"I appreciate that. Especially now, when the majority of the competent men who work for me are scattered in the north!" The Sheriff spat, thinking of his useless blacksmith. "Now, you had better talk to your lady. You have a wedding to plan and not much time to do it."

"Indeed." Guy nodded. He started to head out of the door but then turned and paused. "By the way, cousin, how does your lady fare?" Guy asked abruptly.

The Sheriff looked at him strangely, startled by the question.

"She seems fine." The Sheriff replied, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Right, well…" Guy stammered. He shifted nervously, his eyes downcast.

"Why do you ask?" The Sheriff questioned.

"It's probably nothing." Guy began, struggling to find the words.

"What is?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Just that, my lady mentioned something to me last night." Guy said.

"Oh?" The Sheriff said, his curiousity piqued.

"Yes, just a couple of unusual things about your lady in the last few days, evidently. Your lady told mine it was because she cannot sleep when you're not here." Guy mentioned.

The Sheriff smiled, then cleared his throat. "Did she say what kinds of unusual things?"

"Yes. For starters, she was certain she had seen you riding toward the castle, but that was on the morning that we were nearing the cabin where the outlaw and Lady Brigid were. My lady told me it took much convincing to persuade Lady Rhiannon that she was surely mistaken." Guy stated.

"Indeed." The Sheriff mused as he stroked his chin with his thumb and forefingers. "Perhaps she was right. She did mention that she had difficulty sleeping."

"Yes, I just thought I should ask." Guy said. "I'm sure she'll be fine, now that you've returned to her."

"Yes." The Sheriff said. Though, he did find this news oddly puzzling. "I will ask her about it. Now, you had best go and speak to your lady. For, no doubt, she will be eager to begin the wedding planning." The Sheriff advised.

When Guy left, the Sheriff remained there a few moments. He walked over toward the window for a moment to think. It was certainly curious what Guy had just told him about his lady. The Sheriff thought about all of the changes with her. The thirst. Her conviction that she was sure she'd seen him riding toward the castle, when in fact, he was miles away from her. And something else. What was it? Last night – out in the gardens. She asked him about the nature of his mission. And within only moments she had forgotten him telling her the mission was a success. He realized that some of her behaviour was not making sense. Why? Could it be the potion? Mortianna had made it weak. And the crone was going to great lengths to administer it safely. Or was it something else entirely? Could it be that his lady's mind was swimming with thoughts over details of their upcoming wedding? He shook his head. Regardless of the cause something was amiss. The matter deserved attention. He decided to keep a closer eye on her.


	47. Chapter 47

On Tuesday morning, just outside of the village of Nottingham, Madam Oberon was attaching the bodice of Lady Rhiannon's wedding gown to the skirt. She was busily pinning the two pieces together. As she put the last of the pins in place, she heard a knock at her door. She was somewhat surprised to see ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn standing before her. For, she had not yet summoned Lady Rhiannon.

"Mes chers! You are back. Come in sil vous plait." She smiled at them and gestured for them to enter. The ladies followed.

"I am working on your gown now, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. It is not quite ready for you yet." She smiled.

"Yes. I know, Madam." Rhiannon said. "Actually, I have a request for you. It is regarding that gown."

"Oui, mon cher. What is it?" Madam Oberon asked.

"I'd like to offer that gown to Lady Meridwyn." Rhiannon said, surprising the two of them.

"What? Rhiannon, no!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"Je ne comprends pas?" Madam Oberon remarked, somewhat bewildered.

"She's trying to be helpful, Madame – by sacrificing her own gown. You see, the reason we're here is because I need a wedding gown. I need your expertise. For, I haven't much time." Meridwyn said.

"Oh? When is the wedding, Mademoiselle." Madam Oberon asked her.

Lady Meridwyn cleared her throat. "September eighth." She said.

"A piene six jours?" Madam Oberon exclaimed as her blue eyes widened.

"Oui, Madame. Could you help me? You see, we are eager to be wed. And you are the best seamstress this town has to offer."

"Oh, I see. Un enfant est-il?" Madam Oberon asked.

Even though she spoke in French, the ladies picked up on the reference to 'infant' straightway.

"Well, if you just asked me what I think you just asked me, then oui…you are correct." Lady Meridwyn smiled.

"Comment merveilleux!" Madam Oberon exclaimed as she clapped her hands together. "Good news indeed, Mademoiselle Meridwyn!"

"Can you help me, Madame?" Lady Meridwyn implored her.

"May she have the gown you've started for me?" Rhiannon interjected before Madam Oberon could speak.

"Hmm." Madam Oberon murmured. "I have created a gown in seven days. But, I've never made a wedding gown in that short of a time frame before. Though, j'aime un defi…." She mused.

"Madame?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"Oh, forgive me. I do love a challenge." Madam Oberon explained in english.

"But, that would be too difficult to begin from scratch wouldn't it? Couldn't you just use the one you've already started on for me, then make another for me?" Lady Rhiannon suggested.

"Well, that would be completely up to Mademoiselle Meridwyn." Madam Oberon said.

"I'm fine with it." Meridwyn sighed. "For I haven't given you enough notice." She said to Madam Oberon. Then she turned to Rhiannon. "I do feel strange about it, though. It was supposed to be your gown."

"Meridwyn, there's not enough time. I want you to have it." Rhiannon smiled. "You deserve to have a fine gown." She added.

"Alright." Lady Meridwyn relented.

"Bon! Now…je dois aller au travail! Come. We need to get you measured." Madam Oberon beckoned for the ladies to follow her. From the hallway she gestured for them enter into the same room they were in the week before. She turned her head down toward the length of the hall before joining them inside.

"Marie! Venir ici!" Madam Oberon called to her daughter.

Madam Oberon joined them in the large room where the array of fabrics, and some of her completed works were. In moments, Madam Oberon's daughter dutifully answered her mother's summons.

"Oui, maman?" Marie asked.

"Marie, nous avons une nouvelle affectation. Et aller me mettre mon ruban a mesurer. Apportez votre comprine et de la craie ainsi. Nous devons commencer." Madam Oberon instructed.

"Bien sur, de la mere." Marie replied. She turned then left the room to carry out the request.

"I really appreciate you doing this for me on such short notice." Meridwyn said after Marie had left the room.

"Ce n'est pas un probleme, Mademoiselle! Il est de mon plaisir." Madam Oberon said.

"Pardon, Madame?" Meridwyn asked.

"It is my pleasure, mon cher." Madam Oberon smiled.

She walked over to a table in the room. There was a mound of white silk lying there on the table. Rhiannon and Meridwyn saw it, but never gave it much notice. To them, it appeared to be just that – a mound of silk. But, when Madam Oberon picked it up and held it out, it suddenly unfolded and revealed itself to be a gown. The ladies gasped in unison. It was the gown she had been busily creating for Lady Rhiannon.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Indeed." Meridwyn sighed as she put her hand to her bosom.

"This is the gown." Madam Oberon announced as she brought it over to show to Lady Meridwyn. "Do you approve?"

"Oh yes, Madame! It is lovely!" Meridwyn said. "Guy will love it! I just know that when he sees me wearing it, he'll forget about anyone else present."

"I'm not sure about the hue, though." Madam Oberon said. "But, come. Go into the dressing room for me. Remove your outer gown and return to me. I have a feeling I won't need to make many adjustments to it." Madam Oberon said.

Meridwyn nodded and proceeded to the dressing room.

Lady Rhiannon turned to Madam Oberon. "Thank you, Madam Oberon. She is a very dear friend to me. In fact, she is like a sister to me." Rhiannon smiled.

"Ce n'est rien, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. For, I have known Mademoiselle Meridwyn for years. I'm very pleased to be a part of both of your special days!" The kind woman replied, her blue eyes twinkling.

They turned at the sound of footsteps approaching the room. It was Marie. She had returned with Madam Oberon's measuring tape, a writing tablet and chalk. She smiled a greeting to Lady Rhiannon. She came forward and gave the measuring tape to her mother, then took her place on a chair in the room, dutifully poised to begin assisting her mother.

"Merci, Marie." Madam Oberon said.

Lady Meridwyn came out of the dressing room. She noticed Marie and greeted her with a smile.

"Now, Mademoiselle, allow me to assist you in putting this gown on. I had just finished pinning the skirt to the bodice before you arrived." Madam Oberon remarked.

"Alright." Meridwyn said.

Madam Oberon still had the gown draped over her arm. She walked toward Meridwyn and helped her by placing the gown over her head.

"Be careful of the pins, Mademoiselle." She warned.

Finally, the gown was in place.

"Oh, Meridwyn, it's beautiful on you!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

Meridwyn blushed.

"Hmm." Madam Oberon said as she rubbed her chin. "C'est un peu gros dans la poitrine."

"Oui, maman." Marie agreed, still waiting to jot down directives from her mother.

"What's that, Madame?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"It's a little big in the bosom." Madam Oberon explained. "The bodice and sleeves are perfect otherwise." She said. She thought a moment as she studied it then added: "Alright, let's remove the bodice. Slide it off to the waist a moment, sil vous plait. I must measure."

Meridwyn followed her instruction, and shimmied her arms out of the sleeves. The bodice of the gown was carefully pushed to her waist, so as not to disturb the pins.

Madam Oberon took her tape measure and brought it around Meridwyn's back and held it close over the fullest part of Meridwyn's breasts.

"Trente quatre." Madam Oberon called out as she turned her head toward Marie.

"Oui, ma mere, je me l'ecrire." Marie said.

"Okay, now put that back on – careful with the pins, mon cher." Madam Oberon said to Meridwyn.

Meridwyn obeyed and put her arms through the sleeves again. Finally it was in place.

Madam Oberon circled Meridwyn. She tugged the gown closer under the arms. "Oui. That will be much better. It was good I hadn't begun sewing that part." She said. Then she stepped away from Meridwyn. She stood back about six feet away, squinting her eyes to study the gown. She looked to Marie.

"Tout les autres measures sont a proximite." Madam Oberon smiled.

"Oui maman, vous etes correct. It's remarquable!" Marie exclaimed.

Ladies Meridwyn & Rhiannon looked at each other and cast curious glances toward them. Madam Oberon noticed.

"I was just telling my daughter that all of the other measurements are close. She agrees!" Madam Oberon explained.

"Oh." Meridwyn smiled.

"There is the matter of the skirt, however." Madam Oberon said as she looked down toward the hem. "It is a bit long." She walked closer to Meridwyn and bent down on one knee. She picked up the bottom of it and folded it under a little. She held it there and turned toward Marie.

"Vite! Apportez–mois mons pins – juste a cote de vous sur ma table de couture." Madam Oberon directed.

Marie looked to her left at the table beside her. She arose from her chair and put her tablet and chalk on the table. Then she picked up a small box that was there upon the table, and brought it to Madam Oberon.

Madam Oberon took a pin from it and pinned the fabric she was holding in her hand. Then she added a few more pins there so she could have a better idea of how it would look when she stood back to evaluate the length. After she was satisfied she'd pinned it enough, she arose and stepped away again.

"Oui. It is perfect now." Madam Oberon said. She turned to Marie.

"La robe est un peu long sur elle. Hem par pouce." She directed.

"Oui, maman." Marie nodded.

"That is really all of the adjusting I need to do!" She smiled at Lady Meridwyn. "Well…in terms of sizing it alone." She hinted. She turned to Marie again.

"Merci, Marie. Nous avons termine avec le mesure. Maintenant, allez dans le village. J'ai besoin d'ivoire fil, correspondant a rubans, et d'une cour de la dentelle." Madam Oberon instructed.

"Oui, ma mere." Marie said as she stood up and then proceeded toward the door.

"Attendre!" Madam Oberon called out to her. Marie turned around.

"Nes pas tarder." Madam Oberon said.

"Oui, maman, je vais revinir a vous." Marie replied.

Madam Oberon smiled then turned toward Meridwyn and Rhiannon.

"Now, Mademoiselle Meridwyn. Do you recall I said that je recommande an ivory colour for you?"

"Yes, Madam Oberon. I do remember." Meridwyn replied.

"Do you have a problem with that? For, I think it will quite enhance your skin tone, and bring out the blue in your eyes."

"You're the expert, Madame." Meridwyn smiled. "You have always made me look beautiful." She said.

"Tres bien." Madam Oberon said.

"But, how will you accomplish that?" Meridwyn asked.

"I dyed a white wedding gown black for Mademoiselle Brigid, didn't I?" Madam Oberon winked. "It shall be easy to dye your white gown ivory."

"Oh yes, indeed." Meridwyn smiled.

"Madam Oberon, if I may. What did you and Marie just speak about a moment ago?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui." Madam Oberon smiled. "I asked my daughter to go into the village. She is going to bring me ivory thread, matching ribbons, and a yard of lace. I can always use them, even if Lady Meridwyn didn't want the colour of the gown changed, or any embellishments."

"Oh." Rhiannon said.

Madam Oberon turned to Lady Meridwyn. "And if you would like, I can embellish your gown with ribbons or lace or both. What do you think, Mademoiselle?"

"Oh, I would like that very much, Madame!" Meridwyn replied. "Could you add a layer of lace to the bodice?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle. That is exactly what I had in mind."

"And perhaps ribbons on the sleeves?" Meridwyn suggested.

"Oui. Il doit etre fait." Madam Oberon said.

"Pardon, Madame?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle. It shall be done." Madam Oberon said.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Excuse-moi, mes chers." Madam Oberon said, before she turned and left the room to answer the door.

"Well, what do you think, Rhiannon? Will I make a beautiful bride?" Meridwyn asked as she gazed down upon the gown she was wearing and let her fingertips caress the smooth silk.

"Indeed." Rhiannon replied. "It is lovely. Madam Oberon is very talented. Guy will love it."

"I can't quite believe it. I didn't know what she was going to say to me, for I hadn't given her enough notice. I never expected a gown so grand!" Lady Meridwyn exclaimed. She looked up at Rhiannon. "Thank you." She smiled.

"Don't think of it." Rhiannon smiled back. "What else could you have done? You shall only be married once. It seemed a shame not to put it to use when my wedding is still weeks away."

"I'm overwhelmed." Meridwyn said.

The ladies turned toward the door. Madame Oberon entered the room. Curiously, Lady Marian was walking beside her.

"Hello." Lady Marian said as she nodded to both of them.

"Lady Marian." Rhiannon greeted. "I'm rather surprised to see you here again."

"Yes…indeed." Meridwyn chimed in.

"It's alright, Meridwyn." Rhiannon said to her friend. "Lady Marian and I have settled our differences."

"Really?" Meridwyn replied curiously.

"Indeed. Last Wednesday, in fact. I tried to tell you but you were unwell that day."

"Oh." Meridwyn said.

"I'm surprised. I thought it was Lady Rhiannon who was preparing for her nuptials?" Lady Marian remarked as she eyed Meridwyn's gown up and down.

"We both are." Meridwyn said.

"Yes. But she's getting married first." Rhiannon replied as she nodded toward Meridwyn.

"I see. And who is the lucky groom?" Marian asked.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne." Meridwyn replied proudly.

"Well then, congratulations." Lady Marian said. She tried very hard not to roll her eyes and giggle. The plot thickens over at Nottingham Castle. What a joke.

Madam Oberon cleared her throat. It seemed her home was becoming a meeting place in the town of Nottingham of late. She turned to Lady Marian.

"Mon cher, your gown is completed. Would you like to see it? She asked.

"Oh yes, Madam Oberon. I'd like that very much." Marian replied.

"Excuse-moi. Je reviendrai." Madam Oberon said as she proceeded to exit the room.

"So…when is the wedding?" Lady Marian asked Meridwyn.

"On Monday." Meridwyn replied.

"My… so soon?" Lady Marian commented, her eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Yes." Meridwyn said.

"It's no surprise." Rhiannon chimed in. "For, Meridwyn and Sir Guy have been courting for a few years."

"Is that so?" Marian sighed.

"That is a fact." Meridwyn smiled.

"What is a fact?" Rhiannon asked, startling them both.

Ladies Meridwyn and Marian regarded her strangely.

"The length of time that Guy has been courting me." Meridwyn reminded her, still surprised by Rhiannon's question.

"Oh. Right." Rhiannon shrugged. She was suddenly slightly confused. Her vision became blurred and she was overcome with thirst again.

"Do you think Madam Oberon has water to offer? I'm so thirsty." Rhiannon remarked, suddenly changing the topic.

Meridwyn regarded her strangely. Rhiannon was certainly behaving erratically lately.

"Indeed, Rhiannon. I'm sure she does." Meridwyn said.

"So, why are you here?" Lady Rhiannon asked Marian.

"I am here to pick up my gown." Marian replied, rather bewildered by the question. For, Rhiannon was standing right there when Marian was discussing it with Madam Oberon?

Lady Meridwyn looked over at Rhiannon. She tried hard to conceal her suspicion. Why was her friend acting like this? She appeared confused, and what was this thirst about?

Madam Oberon suddenly appeared holding a large box. "Here it is, Mademoiselle Marian." Madam Oberon announced. She gave the box to Lady Marian.

"You should try it on." Madam Oberon said. "I will show you to another room so that Mademoiselle Meridwyn can change back into her gown." She took Marian to the doorway and gestured down the hall, pointing her in the direction of another room to change in.

Rhiannon decided then that she could wait until she got back to the castle for that drink of water.

Lady Marian looked back to Rhiannon before she left the room.

"Perhaps we could share a cup of tea sometime?" Lady Marian suggested.

"Yes. That would be fine." Rhiannon replied. Though, she still remembered to keep it in mind not to trust the lady.

"Are we finished?" Meridwyn asked Madam Oberon.

"Oui, Mademoiselle. You may change into your gown now." Madam Oberon said.

Ten minutes later, Meridwyn came back out of the dressing room. She gave the gown back to Madam Oberon.

"Oh, Madam Oberon, I almost forgot!" Meridwyn began. She reached into her gown pocket and extracted a folded piece of parchment. She gave it to Madam Oberon.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Madam Oberon asked.

"That is an invitation to my wedding. I'd like for you to come. It would mean a lot to me." Meridwyn smiled.

"Oh, Mademoiselle. Je suis ravi!" Madam Oberon said.

"Monday at high noon. I do hope you can attend." Meridwyn said.

"Oui." Madam Oberon smiled. She put the parchment on the table beside her.

After Ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn had left Madam Oberon's home, Lady Marian was back in the room changed into the gown that Madam Oberon had made for her. Madam Oberon was interrupted however when her daughter had returned from an errand in the village. As Madam Oberon and her daughter were speaking near the doorway, her eyes caught sight of an unfolded piece of parchment on the table beside where she was standing. What's this? She looked down upon it. It was an invitation to the wedding of Sir Guy of Gisborne and Lady Meridwyn. A grin slowly spread across her face. Perfect! That will be the day, she thought. She picked up the parchment and folded it, and placed it inside the bodice of the gown. She would move it when she changed back into her own gown. Ten minutes later, she was walking out of Madam Oberon's home with her gown packaged in a box, and the invitation in her skirt pocket. She'd forgotten to give a message to Lady Rhiannon. It was time to deliver it.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Rhiannon and Meridwyn were riding down the main path out of the vicinity of Madam Oberon's home and toward the heart of Nottingham. Meridwyn was riding ahead this time. Rhiannon's vision was slightly blurred and she was still thirsty. She was rubbing her eyes in an attempt to focus them when she saw a large notice nailed to a tree. She slowed the horse and eased her mare toward it.

Meridwyn sensed she had lost Rhiannon somewhere along the way. She slowed her horse and turned it around to face her. She was forty yards ahead.

"Are you coming, Rhiannon?" Meridwyn called back to her.

"You go ahead, Meridwyn." Rhiannon called. "I'm going to walk with my horse a little way. We've been apart for too long." She lied.

Meridwyn waved and went on her way.

Rhiannon dismounted and held the reins while she moved in slowly toward the tree. The parchment was large. There were sketches of two people in the center. Finally, it became clear. It was an order from the Sheriff. She focused back on the sketches. She studied the face of the man. She blinked her eyes a few times to focus, telling herself her eyes were playing tricks on her. But there was no mistaking it! No. It couldn't be? He was dead. The charge – kidnapping? Had her lover gone mad? She was filled with a fury. She didn't know how she was going to approach this with him but she had to. She couldn't stay silent about this. She managed to jimmy the nail out of the parchment. Then she rolled it and put it in the pocket of her cape. It still managed to stick out of the pocket because the scroll was large, but the pocket served its' purpose. She mounted her horse and kicked it into a gallop.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Luke, Drake, and Adam were once again stationed outside of the main gates of the Castle this day. They were getting ready to take shifts for their noon respite when they heard a horse approaching. They looked up.

"Oh, it's her again." Adam said. His grey eyes turned to steel.

"I wonder what she wants?" Luke remarked. "Lady Rhiannon hasn't returned from her outing yet." His brown hair gleamed in the sun.

"Whatever it is, it should be interesting." Drake added in a hushed tone. For the horse was drawing closer toward them.

"Good day, gentlemen." Lady Marian spoke, scanning their faces after she slowed her horse to a halt.

The men nodded and greeted her.

"Lady Rhiannon is not here." Adam announced.

"I know." Marian said. "I just saw her in the village. How silly of me. I forgot to give her a message."

"Is that so?" Luke questioned. He narrowed his blue green eyes at her.

"Yes. Can you tell her to come to Locksley Castle tomorrow at midday? There's some things I wish to share with her." Lady Marian said.

"Rather strange place for a picnic isn't it?" Drake said. His long dark hair glistened. Marian realized then that in another life, she would have a strong attraction to this one. But she could never be with anyone associated with Nottingham. "There's nothing left of Locksley Castle but ruins!" Drake exclaimed.

"Picnic? Who said anything about a picnic?" Lady Marian grinned.

All three of the guards eyed her strangely.

"We will tell her, my lady, but she may not be able to attend. Things are rather busy around here with the preparations for the nuptials of Guy of Gisborne and his lady." Drake pointed out.

"Lady Rhiannon has been helping Sir Gisborne's lady with some of the preparations." Adam added.

"Oh yes, I know." Lady Marian smiled.

"You know?" Luke asked in disbelief.

"Why, yes. I just received my invitation to the wedding today." Marian said as she took it from her gown pocket, unfolded the parchment and flashed it in front of them.

"I see." Drake said.

"If you could give that message to Lady Rhiannon, I'd be most grateful. And I'll be seeing you gentlemen next week. Because, you know – I just wouldn't miss that event for the world!" Lady Marian grinned before she went on her way.

"I still say there's something about her I do not like." Luke said. Drake and Adam nodded their agreement as they watched her ride away.

Twenty minutes later, Luke was coming out of the castle and walking back toward his post at the gates when he saw Lady Rhiannon.

"Where is he?" Lady Rhiannon demanded.

"Whom?" Luke asked.

"The Sheriff. Where is he?" Rhiannon whispered huskily. Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out.

"In the Council Quarters with members of his staff." Luke replied. For, he had just come from there. Oddly, he was asked to report there on the condition of his armour. He didn't know why he would need to, but he answered the summons nonetheless.

Rhiannon nodded.

"Wait, my lady. Lady Marian was here with a message for you." Luke said.

"Really? What is the message?" Rhiannon asked. She was desperate for a drink of water. Luckily, she knew there was always a steady supply of it in the Sheriff's Council Quarters.

"She wants you to meet her tomorrow at midday at Locksley Castle." Luke said.

"Hmm." Rhiannon muttered.

"Don't go, my lady. My comrades have informed me that castle is a frightening place, even in the light of day. Seems a strange place to meet you - if you ask me, and I'm not being funny. You won't will you?" Luke implored.

"Ha! As if!" Lady Rhiannon grinned.

"My lady?"

"No Luke. If she wants to see me she'll have to come where I have protection. Locksley Castle! I can just imagine what _**it**_ looks like." She wants to taunt me over what the Sheriff did to Robin. Well it's not going to work, Rhiannon thought. Even though she was at the moment, angry with her man, she would never listen to Marian's lies. Marian was too bereft to see clearly about anything!

"Not nice from what I hear." Luke said.

She smiled and then broke into a run toward the castle.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was inside the Council Quarters with Guy, his Scribe, and the same knight who regularly attended the weekly town council meetings.

"Has there been any word about finding another blacksmith?" The Sheriff asked his staff.

"No, my Lord. It seems the one you have employed here serves not just you, but a few of the local villages." Guy replied.

"Well, something needs to be done. Luke seems to be the only one who doesn't have ill fitting armour!" The Sheriff spat.

Lady Rhiannon was fast approaching the door to the Council Quarters. One of the Sheriff's sentry was stationed outside of the door. He turned in her direction when he heard her footsteps.

"He's in a meeting, my lady. The Sheriff asked not to be disturbed." The tall guard spoke.

"Well, that's unfortunate. For, this cannot wait." Rhiannon said with her hand upon the door handle.

The guard moved in closer to block her access. "No, my lady. You can't go in there." He warned.

"Out of my way!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "I am his betrothed, in case you've forgotten!" With that she swiftly kicked him hard in the shin. The guard groaned and bent down favouring his leg.

The Sheriff stood leaning down on the table towards the faces of his men.

"You must keep looking for me." The Sheriff instructed. "I need a competent blacksmith." He said. The men nodded. Suddenly, they heard a commotion outside of the door. He turned his head. Just as he was about to go to the door to ask his sentry what was going on, the door flew open. It was Lady Rhiannon. She stormed into the room, slightly breathless, and pulling a large scroll from the pocket of her black velvet cape. The Sheriff stood motionless staring at her, startled by her intrusion. She walked directly to the table as the stunned faces of the men gathered there were upon her. She stopped at the table. As she suspected it would be, there was a pitcher of water there on a tray with several goblets arranged around it. She picked up the pitcher and poured a generous amount in a goblet. Then she put the pitcher down, picked up the goblet and downed the entire contents. The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. What was she up to? Then she sighed, wiped her lips, put the goblet down on the table, and looked to everyone gathered there - everyone but the Sheriff.

"Leave us." She demanded of them.

The men just sat there regarding her strangely.

"I said: leave us!" She shouted.

The Sheriff sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked to his men. "It's alright. You know your orders. Leave us then." He said.

The men arose from their seats and left them to their privacy.

"What is it, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked, exasperated.

She unrolled the parchment and held it out to show him.

"What's the meaning of this?" She demanded.

"They are wanted for kidnapping." The Sheriff said. He swallowed. Why would she concern herself with this? He didn't think she would care if she saw the proclamations. She didn't remember their child?

"Well, you're mistaken!" Rhiannon said as she threw it on the table.

"This could've waited. I was meeting with my men." The Sheriff huffed. "You barge in here about this?"

"You're wrong. I know for a fact this man could not have kidnapped a child. He couldn't."

"Oh really? And how do you know this?" The Sheriff asked.

"Because I knew him. That man is dead." Rhiannon said.

"That's impossible!" The Sheriff retorted. "How do you know this?" He paused a moment before adding: "How did you know _**him**_?"

She wasn't sure why, but a little voice inside of her told her not to admit the man in the sketch was her brother.

"He lived in the village I came from in the north. He died two years ago." Rhiannon announced.

The Sheriff made a face. He was stunned by what she was saying, but it was as if she was holding back.

"If you knew him so well, who is he then?" The Sheriff asked.

"You mean – 'was'. I only knew him by his first name. He was Richard something or other." Rhiannon lied.

"Well, I know for a fact that the man in that sketch is alive and well, and has a child in custody that does not belong to him." The Sheriff said as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Whose child?" Rhiannon asked.

"What, my lady?" The Sheriff asked, though he heard her words loud and clear.

"Whose child does he have?" Lady Rhiannon asked again.

Here was the moment. The moment he dreaded. This was clearly not the right time to tell her. But, then again, the matter had been put off long enough.

The Sheriff cleared his throat and moved in slowly toward her. Rhiannon narrowed her eyes at him, demanding a response.

"Ours." The Sheriff said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"What?" Rhiannon asked.

"It is our child who was kidnapped." The Sheriff said.

Lady Rhiannon stared at him shaking her head. A smile began to form and slowly spread across her face. And then…she began to giggle.

"My lady?" The Sheriff said. This was not the reaction he was expecting from her.

"You must be jesting!" Lady Rhiannon chortled. "Is that the best you can come up with? You expect me to believe that we had a child and I have forgotten all about it?" She laughed. "Please." Rhiannon sighed. She moved toward the table and began to pour another goblet of water. She picked it up and began to drink. The Sheriff stood looking at her with his jaw slightly agape and shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why can't you just be honest with me?" Rhiannon asked in between sips. "Is it too much to ask?"

"None of what I'm saying is a lie." The Sheriff said.

She looked over to meet his gaze. He looked serious? She sighed. He wasn't going to tell her the truth. That was very clear. He could be so obstinate sometimes!

"Alright, you know what? Forget it. I don't know what this is about, and I don't want to know. But I'm here to tell you the man in that sketch is not responsible. You don't have to say another word about the matter if that's your best excuse. Just know that he is dead." Rhiannon said. Then she turned and exited the room leaving the Sheriff standing there, stunned and speechless. She couldn't even believe him when he spoke truth? Why was she being so difficult? And why did she storm into the chamber when she knew he was meeting with his staff? Why would she barge into a meeting? He thought a moment. It came to him. This was personal. The man in that sketch must have been important to her for her to go to such lengths to get the Sheriff's attention. His eyes widened. Of course! Who was this Richard character to Lady Rhiannon? He decided to go after her to find out. As he ran down the length of the corridor on the main floor the young blond page saw him coming and ran beside him.

"My Lord, sir!" The page called.

The Sheriff stopped and turned to face him. "What do you want, you little runt?" The Sheriff barked.

"I have a message for you, sire." The page said. He held out a scroll toward the Sheriff. The Sheriff took it.

"Is it from Duke Farnsworth?" The Sheriff asked hurriedly.

"No, sir." The page replied.

"Then I'll read it later." The Sheriff said. He put the scroll under his belt and continued running toward the private chambers.

Lady Rhiannon entered the private chambers a little breathless from the run. She walked into the bed chamber, closed the doors behind her and headed toward the table below the mirror beside the window. The flask of potion was still there under her scarf. She never had a chance to move it, the Sheriff was always with her whenever she was in this room. She picked up the flask, removed the stopper and poured it into a goblet. The Sheriff would most likely be following her. She needed to hide the flask. She heard the doors fly open into the den. She turned around. The Sheriff was just outside of this chamber. She had to think fast. She looked to the bed directly in front of her. Beyond the bed were the doors where the Sheriff would be coming through any moment. She walked toward the bed and bent down. She was placing the flask there under the bed when the doors flew open. He looked around, and could see the top of her head on the other side of the bed. He had caught her crouched down on the floor.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff called to her. "What are you doing on the floor?"

She removed the silver and diamond comb from her hair. She held it in her hand as she stood up. "I was looking for this." She said as she held out her palm to show him.

"Listen, my lady. I was telling you the truth." The Sheriff said as he came toward her.

She turned and went back to the table and picked up the goblet of potion. She began to sip. "The truth about what?" Rhiannon asked when she turned to face him.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff said sternly. What's going on with her? Was she on the verge of falling into another cursed slumber again?

"Well? Tell me. The truth about what?" Rhiannon asked again.

The Sheriff shook his head. "What we spoke of just now, in the Council Quarters! You came to see me about the proclamations." He said, trying to keep his temper at a low simmer.

"Proclamations?" Rhiannon asked as she slowly sipped her potion. The Sheriff wouldn't know – unless he tasted it. The liquid was colourless.

"The ones about the man and his wife wanted for kidnapping. Don't play this game with me, lady! Who was he to you, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Whom?" Rhiannon asked.

"That man. Richard, you said. You told me he was dead." The Sheriff pointed out. Why did he have to repeat everything she just said to him? She genuinely appeared bewildered by everything he was telling her!

"I don't know a Richard." Rhiannon said.

"Who is he, then?" The Sheriff asked as he came in close and put his hands upon her shoulders.

"Who? I don't know what you're talking about!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"You just barged into my staff meeting to tell me this, and you're telling me you've already forgotten it?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"I really don't know what you're referring to." Rhiannon said.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She was lying. He could not control the jealous fury that suddenly overcame him.

"He isn't dead, is he, my dear? You want him spared because he once courted you. I'm right, aren't I? That is the reason for your outburst in the Council Quarters." The Sheriff challenged. She wanted to play this game? He could see right through it!

"Let go of me!" Rhiannon shouted as she fought her way free. "How dare you accuse me of this!" She was beginning to tremble. The Sheriff noticed. She was keyed up as tight as a harp string. She was holding something back. He didn't know what it was, but it was clear she was hiding something from him.

She brought the goblet up to her lips, made a subtle attempt to hold her breath and began to drink the remaining contents of the potion. She made a face. It was vile. She turned back to the table. There was a pitcher of water there. She picked it up and poured some water into the goblet.

"He must have been very important to you to call the matter to my attention in the way that you did." The Sheriff remarked.

Rhiannon turned around. "I told you I don't know what you're talking about!" She cried.

"Alright. We'll play it your way." The Sheriff remarked sarcastically.

"I'm not playing at anything." Rhiannon said.

"On the contrary, my lady. You're playing at something, and I'm going to find out what it is." The Sheriff warned.

"Oh really?" Rhiannon asked facetiously.

"Weren't you the one who said you couldn't look me in the eye and lie to me?" The Sheriff reminded her. He moved in toward her until he was inches away from her. He spun her around to face him. He placed his fingers underneath her chin and tilted it up until she met his gaze with her aqua green eyes. He sighed and raised his eyebrow. She tried to control her breathing.

"You're lying to me now, Rhiannon. I know it. You are hiding something from me and I intend to find out what that something is. Everything points to it, so don't try to deny it." The Sheriff seethed.

She moved her eyes downward. She couldn't look at him any longer.

"Look at me." The Sheriff demanded.

She raised her eyes to look into his dark amber eyes. They pierced into hers as he spoke.

"What are you hiding?" He demanded.

"Nothing, my lord." She lied. She looked down. Behind him was the bed. She couldn't see it, but she knew the flask was still there under the bed.

"I'm going to find out, so you might as well come out with it now." The Sheriff said.

"There's nothing to say." Rhiannon sighed.

The Sheriff shook his head. "You're sure?"

"Yes." Rhiannon said. She moved away and went to sit on the bed.

This was impossible. She was impossible! He sighed. He suddenly remembered the scroll. He pulled it from under his belt. He broke the seal and unrolled it. How curious? It was from Lady Rebeccah. The Sheriff began to read:

" _My Lord Sheriff;_

_I thought it was in your best interest to inform you that Lady Marian Dubois is visiting in Nottingham. I've seen her. There's something about her demeanor that troubles me. I know something of the history of you and Lady Marian. I knew you would want to know._

_Sincerely,_

_Lady Rebeccah."_

The Sheriff shook his head. Another problem. The problem he thought was solved a long time ago when she fled to London – never to return again. She chooses now of all times to return! Surely she wouldn't come looking for him? Does she know about Rhiannon? What would she tell her if she met Rhiannon? She was the one person he never told Rhiannon about! He drew in a sigh and put the scroll on the table beside him.

"My Lord? Not troubling news I hope?" Rhiannon asked, suddenly interrupting his thoughts.

The Sheriff smiled. "No, my lady. Just business as usual. Nothing for you to worry about." The Sheriff replied with a tinge of guilt. Now who was keeping secrets?

"Business." Rhiannon sighed. "You don't have any business to attend to now do you?"

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes as he regarded her. Her moods were so mercurial lately. Was he mistaken or was she attempting to seduce him?

"Well, no. I don't have anything pressing at the moment." He replied.

"Good. I know what you need. Something to do with leisure." Rhiannon hinted.

"Is that so?" The Sheriff asked as he moved in toward her. "And didn't you just ask me to let go of you a moment ago?" He reminded her.

"That was then." Rhiannon grinned. "But _**now**_ is a whole other chapter."

He sat on the bed beside her and leaned in toward her. He stroked her hair and her cheek. "My lady, you are always full of surprises." He smiled.

"Good. I would never want to be predictable." Rhiannon said.

"No, my lady. Never predictable. That's what excites me about you." The Sheriff said. He moved in closer and kissed her. His kiss was soft, warm, and full of desire. Suddenly, she forgot what it was that he said to anger her before.

"I take it you're no longer angry?" The Sheriff asked when he broke the kiss.

"No. Not anymore. You see – it's all your fault." Rhiannon sighed as she kissed his cheek, then tickled his earlobe with her tongue. She was driving him wild with desire for her.

"My fault? What do you mean, my angel?" He breathed. He knew she'd come up with a clever reply. She did not disappoint.

"It is you. No matter how angry you make me, every time I see you, I want to do with you what we're doing right now. You drive me to madness." Rhiannon murmured.

"Oh, my lady." The Sheriff sighed. "What you do to me…" He breathed as he began to untie the laces on her bodice. He loosened them until the edges fell away. Her perfect breasts came into focus. She could feel his warm breath upon them, he was that close to her. She sighed.

"I hope I can always make you forget your duties." Rhiannon smiled up at him.

"If I ever choose my duties over you, that's when I'll know I have reached the lowest point of my life." The Sheriff said. He leaned down into her ear. "I shall _**always**_ choose you." He whispered. His soft whiskers tickled her neck. His breath upon her ear made her melt. Her heart quickened.

"My love…" Rhiannon breathed. She put her hand on the back of his neck and brought his face down to hers. Their eyes locked before she kissed him. Suddenly she longed to be his wife.

The Sheriff knew she was keeping something from him. But he couldn't think about it. Not now. The truth was he could never stay angry with her. Nobody would ever come between them. Not even Lady Marian.

"George?" Rhiannon whispered.

He stopped and gazed down upon her. "Yes?" He asked.

"He's dead." She murmured.

"Who is dead?" The Sheriff asked, stunned by her words at a moment such as this.

"Robert." She answered.

"Who?" He asked.

"The man in the proclamation." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. Already he caught her in a lie.

"I thought you said his name was Richard?" The Sheriff asked gruffly, unable to hide the fury rising within him again.

"Richard…Robert…who knows? They're all the same to me." Rhiannon sighed.

"Drop it, Rhiannon. Whomever that man is, he will pay for not coming forward. He has our child." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon burst into giggling. "You can stop with the act, George, for it's completely killing the mood." She said.

"My lady…I'm not acting." The Sheriff said quietly as he looked into her eyes.

"No. Don't do this, George. Please don't do this to me." Rhiannon pleaded.

"What, my lady?" He asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Don't tease me like this. Not now. Let's just forget about that man's crime, I don't want to know. I do not care. Not now." Rhiannon whispered. It couldn't be Robert. Robert was dead. So whomever that man was who closely resembled her brother, she would not think on it a moment longer. Certainly not now.

The Sheriff paused a moment before responding as he gazed into her eyes. Her eyes were pleading with him. As he stared into the aqua depths they told him she did not remember anything of their child, and that all she wanted from him now, was his love. He smiled.

"Alright, my lady. As you wish. We'll talk more about this at a later date." The Sheriff said.

"Much later." She whispered as she leaned forward to kiss him. "I want to make you happy, my sweet prince." She breathed.

The Sheriff sighed. Even when she angered him, everything about her was mesmerizing. Even her terms of endearment for him sent chills down his spine. He realized that no matter how much she could enrage him, or make him jealous, he could never love another like her.


	48. Chapter 48

It was Friday morning September fifth. Rhiannon had just come from Mortianna's apothecary for her daily measure of potion. A stroke of luck happened on this day. Rhiannon finally had an opportunity to obtain more of the potion when Mortianna's pet crow managed an escape from his cage. This was the first opportunity that arose in days. And it was also the first morning in several days she found herself to be alone in the private chamber. She went to the bed and crouched down. She reached across the smooth marble floor and found the flask. She pulled it out from under the bed, removed the stopper, and poured the contents from her vile into the flask. She stood and took the flask to the table located below the mirror on the wall. There was a goblet waiting there. She poured some of the potion into the goblet, then went back to hide the flask under the bed. Rhiannon got up and went back to the table. She picked up a large bottle that was sitting there, the lavender soap that Mortianna had given to her, along with the goblet and headed to the bath chamber. The servants had already brought several buckets of warm water for her.

She went to the tub. She placed the goblet and the soap on the chair beside it, then she opened the bottle. It was a liquefied version of the soap, Mortianna had just given it to her this morning. She poured it into the tub and then added the water. Finally the tub was filled and was overflowing with heavenly, creamy bubbles. She removed her dressing gown, letting it fall carelessly to the floor and stepped into the bath, sliding into the water until it was at the level of her shoulders. She closed her eyes and reclined back into it. A few minutes later she was startled by a knock on the door. There was only one person it could be.

"Yes?" She called.

"My Lady?" The Sheriff replied.

"You may enter." Rhiannon said. She reached beside her and grabbed her goblet. She was sipping it when the Sheriff stepped inside the chamber.

He was rather surprised when he saw the bubbles foaming all around her.

"What's this?" He asked.

"Isn't it divine? It's a liquefied version of Mortianna's soap. She just gave it to me. It's dreamy!" Rhiannon sighed.

The Sheriff shot her a devilish grin at her choice of words. It looked strange to him, but he guessed he'd have to be a woman to understand. Like their fascination with fancy gowns and boots. He never did get the fascination with boots.

Then she startled him by a sudden change in her mood.

"So, what do you want?" Rhiannon asked abruptly.

"My lady?" The Sheriff said.

"You are interrupting my morning ablutions, in case you didn't notice that." Rhiannon rolled her eyes.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. He cleared his throat. "Well, I just wanted to inform you that we shall be dining this evening with my cousin and his lady. There won't be much time after today for this, and they shall be gone a week after they are wed." The Sheriff said.

"I shall look forward to it, my Lord. It is a grand idea." Rhiannon said.

"Also, my chef, Jean Louis will be preparing the dishes tonight. I thought you could get an idea of his culinary talents for the feast at our wedding. We never did speak with him about it." The Sheriff smiled.

"Oh. Yes. Well, I forgot all about that. I don't know any chefs so whomever you recommend is fine with me." Rhiannon said nonchalantly.

"Really? You're okay with it if I ask Jean Louis to do it?" The Sheriff asked.

Rhiannon sighed and took a sip of the potion from her goblet. Why didn't she remember to bring ale to chase it down? It was just as well, he would wonder why she was drinking from two goblets.

"This is boring. Can we talk about flowers instead?" Lady Rhiannon asked, startling him.

"We shall have many guests present at our wedding, my lady. The feast is an important part of it." The Sheriff pointed out.

She took another sip. She was beginning to feel warmed. She cast him her seductive sideways glance. He exhaled a sigh. He was starting to feel warmed and tugged at his collar.

"I don't care about food. Do you honestly think I'll be thinking about food on the day that you will marry me?" Rhiannon asked. "That will be the last thing on my mind." She grinned.

"Yes. I can promise it will be the last thing on my mind as well." The Sheriff agreed. He loved her innuendo. "But the point is we will be entertaining our guests." He said.

"I suppose you're right." Rhiannon sighed. "So, when do we dine with Sir Guy and Lady Meridwyn?" She asked.

"At dusk." The Sheriff replied. His eyes kept roaming over her. Through the creamy bubbles he thought he could detect her skin. He swallowed. "Are you wearing a bath shirt?" The Sheriff asked.

"No. Why bother? Nobody's going to see me. Nobody…except you. Besides, who needs it? I wouldn't be able to feel the foam on my skin." Rhiannon winked.

He closed his eyes a moment and breathed deeply. She didn't even have to try and she was the most seductive creature he ever laid his eyes on. Her voice. Those words. Her expressions. He opened his eyes.

"Right. Well, I have to venture out this day into the village. I won't be leaving until after high noon, but you'll see me in time for our engagement with Guy and Lady Meridwyn." The Sheriff informed her.

"That's fine. Whatever you need to do. I'll live." Rhiannon rolled her eyes and took another sip from her goblet. Her vision was becoming blurry, she blinked a few times.

His eyebrow shot north. Was that an insult he detected?

"What did you mean by that?" He asked suspiciously.

"You make it sound like it's going to be the end of the world for me because you'll be gone all day." Rhiannon said.

"My lady?"

"There's more to me than meets the eye." Rhiannon added.

"Oh yes. That I know." The Sheriff remarked sarcastically.

"Do you think the only thing I am good for is pleasing you?" Rhiannon asked pointedly.

He knew it was a rhetorical question. He said nothing but raised his eyebrow at her. She tried to fight her body's response to his mindless facial expression.

"Do you think the only thing I'm good for is kissing you? Stroking every inch of you?" She whispered. "Enveloping you with my lips, and tasting you with my tongue?" She added slowly.

The Sheriff sighed. His eyes were narrowed upon her. He was infuriated with her and yet, strongly aroused all at the same time. He licked his lips and swallowed.

"What is going on with you?" He suddenly questioned.

"Whatever do you mean?" Rhiannon asked.

"You have not been yourself ever since I returned home on Sunday! Your moods are all over the place. Sometimes they're up, and then they're down, sometimes moment to moment. You've almost turned into a shameless hussy? What has gotten into you, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff implored her.

"I don't know. I suspect nothing. Maybe that was just your poor excuse to cover up the fact that your ego had just been injured!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"You know, I seriously do not know what to make of you these days. You're lucky I love you so much." The Sheriff spat.

"Really?" She raised her eyebrow and sipped from her goblet. "Why do you say that?" She asked him pointedly.

"Because lately you're acting insufferably!" He barked. "I'll see you at dusk in the dining hall!" He remarked sternly.

"Oh, yes, my dark prince. You can count on that." She grinned.

He let out a low growl and turned and quickly exited the bath chamber.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, the Sheriff approached the familiar grey stone manor on the outskirts of Nottingham. He secured his horse, walked along the cobblestone path and knocked on the door. Lady Rebeccah answered in moments.

"My Lord Sheriff. I'm surprised to see you. Come in." Lady Rebeccah smiled. She gestured for him to come inside.

"I received your message." The Sheriff said. "You hinted at Lady Marian's demeanor. I thought maybe you could tell me more about it if I paid you a visit."

"Yes." Rebeccah said.

"When did you see her?" The Sheriff asked.

"The last Monday in August. Almost a fortnight ago." Rebeccah replied.

The day I left on my mission, the Sheriff thought. "Do you think she's still here?" He asked.

"I'm not certain, but she might be. She said she had some business to take care of."

"Yes. I'm sure." The Sheriff said. "So, what was it about her that troubled you?"

"Just little things I picked up on. It wasn't very obvious by her words. But whenever she spoke of you, there was this look in her eyes. Like…rage." Rebeccah said.

"That's not surprising." The Sheriff remarked.

"She is still angry. She speaks of Robin as if he died yesterday. It's like she's in her own fantasy world! She makes very little sense." Rebeccah said. She pushed a shiny dark tendril from her face.

"How unfortunate. It has been a long time since his demise." The Sheriff said.

"Not for her. She truly spoke of him as if he lived and breathed yesterday. I was rather awed by it if I were being honest."

The Sheriff shook his head. "She has always hated me, Lady Rebeccah. This is nothing new. So, why the need to send me a message about this?" The Sheriff pried.

"Because, she gave me a strong feeling that she might be here to seek some sort of revenge. I don't know how. She was most interested to learn about Lady Rhiannon." Lady Rebeccah answered.

The Sheriff swallowed. "She knows of my lady? What does that little wench know about my lady?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Lady Marian came to visit me here at Lady Rhiannon's home. I had obtained permission from Lady Rhiannon two days prior. Lady Marian inquired about the lady of the manor. She wondered where she was. I told her she was staying at the castle of her betrothed where she'd been cared for since falling ill." Lady Rebeccah explained.

The Sheriff sighed.

"Naturally, she asked me whose castle my lady was staying at." Rebeccah added.

"Naturally." The Sheriff huffed. He could just imagine the look on her face when she put two and two together and found out the lady of the manor was his soon to be bride!

"And what did she say to that?" The Sheriff asked. "Not that I care." He added.

"I don't think I should repeat it." Rebeccah blushed.

"Coming from her, trust me, I won't be surprised." The Sheriff said.

"She said that it was curious Lady Rhiannon was staying at the castle, yet you're not married yet…" Lady Rebeccah stammered.

"Mmm… hmm? And? Oh, do go on, Lady Rebeccah. I'm sure there's more to it." The Sheriff remarked facetiously.

"She said that Lady Rhiannon was rather like…a courtesan."

"That bitch!" The Sheriff spat.

"My Lord?"

"Forgive me, my lady. That woman has always gotten under my skin. I do not care what she thinks of me, she's never hidden it. But when she insults my lady, she is making a grave mistake!" The Sheriff warned.

"I'm sure they have never spoken." Lady Rebeccah pointed out.

"I agree. I'm sure Rhiannon would've mentioned to me the curious wench she'd met if she had spoken to her. I'm sure my lady would see right through her." The Sheriff mused.

"And I'm sure she'd defend you if Lady Marian said anything against you to her." Rebeccah stated.

"Really?" The Sheriff asked.

"I know she would. She's done it with me." Rebeccah admitted.

"Is that so?" He pried.

"Yes. When your lady came here almost a fortnight ago she announced her upcoming nuptials to you. I told her…forgive me, my Lord – that I never saw you as the marrying kind." Rebeccah said.

The Sheriff sighed. He agreed that was the truth about him – before he met Rhiannon.

"She told me that George of the House of Nottingham was to be her husband and she wouldn't hear of me insulting you. Then she went on to say she could tolerate that from ignorant villagers, but she wouldn't tolerate it from me."

The Sheriff couldn't hide the smile that spread across his face.

"She loves you." Rebeccah said.

"Sometimes I wonder." The Sheriff said quietly, thinking of their discussion earlier. He wondered what her mood would be when they dined with Guy and Lady Meridwyn?

"My Lord?"

"It is nothing. Just the usual wedding jitters I suppose. If you see Lady Marian again I want to be informed." The Sheriff instructed.

"Yes, my Lord. I will tell you if I see her again." Lady Rebeccah promised.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was growing later in the day. Rhiannon was dressed and groomed, ready for her dinner engagement. She was gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She was pleased. There was one way to make the Sheriff forget he was angry at her. When he saw this gown – he would forget.

After she finished bathing she went through her trunk to search for it. Her heart leaped when she spotted it. She hoped he would remember. She ordered the servants to bring more buckets of strictly hot water to the bath chamber. She placed the gown in the bath chamber and hung it on a hook in the wall. She closed the door and the steam began to work its' magic on the soft velvet.

Now, she stood gazing upon her reflection. The gown was perfect, it looked new. She pinched her cheeks and they instantly flushed. She was slightly nervous. She needed courage. The flask was upon the table before her. She began to pour a measure of potion in the goblet. She began to drink. She liked the way it made her feel. Like nothing could hurt her, because she couldn't care. She especially loved the way it heightened the sensation of the Sheriff's touch, and that it removed her modesty in response to it. Besides, she justified it by telling herself that sometimes she could still remember what that man did to her. Like last night, in a nightmare she had. When she awoke, her lover was looking down upon her. He looked concerned but said nothing. She just smiled and closed her eyes, wishing she could just run into a cave instead. She finished the potion and chased it with ale. She looked back into the mirror. She knew it had worked. She was feeling it already.

"Watch out, dear Sheriff, your lady is coming." She grinned.

She heard a knock on the door leading into the den. She went to the door. The page was standing before her when she opened it.

"Forgive me, milady, but Lady Marian is here to see you again." The page said.

"This is not a good time." Lady Rhiannon frowned. "Where is she?"

"In the Council Quarters." The page replied.

"No. She can't be! The Sheriff will be stopping by there before he prepares himself for our dinner engagement!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Milady?"

"Never mind." Rhiannon said. She was just about to head there when she remembered the flask sitting out. She dismissed the page and ran back into the chamber. After she moved the flask back under the bed, she left and made her way to the Council Quarters.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was getting closer to the castle. He was about fifteen minutes away. It was nearing dusk. He hoped that his lady would behave herself tonight. He thought of what Lady Rebeccah said, of how she admonished Rebeccah for insulting him. And he thought of what Rhiannon said to him this morning in the bath chamber. She was the biggest tease he'd ever known. He was angry when he closed the door behind him when he left her in the morning. But the truth was he was angry that she could completely enrage him, and yet cause him to have lustful thoughts toward her all in the same moment! He'd never met a woman like her. But she was different lately. Not at all like the woman he met. She was always headstrong and self sufficient, but this was different. There was an arrogance taking hold of her. He'd never seen it in her before until he returned six days ago. Could it be this Richard character she mentioned to him last night? She seemed curiously passionate about the whole thing. Had she been having an affair? Or, was her previous affair with this man Richard, so steamy that she couldn't get him out of her mind? Was that the reason for the sudden change in her?

He would have words with her later about the way she spoke to him earlier. And he was going to keep prying until she told the truth of the man in the sketch that caused her such anger that she barged in upon his meeting. Nothing she could do tonight would change his mind. He was not going to give in to her feminine charms!

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Rhiannon opened the door to the Council Quarters.

"We cannot be seen here, Lady Marian. My betrothed will return soon and he always comes to this chamber before he retires his duties at the end of the day." Lady Rhiannon said.

"He does not know I'm here?" Lady Marian asked.

"No. I never told him. I think you know why." Rhiannon said.

"Very well." Lady Marian sighed.

"Come. We'll go to the gardens. I must make it brief though, because I have a dinner engagement at dusk." Rhiannon said.

Lady Marian walked toward her. Rhiannon led her through the long halls, then eventually they came to the exit that led out into the gardens.

They walked for a few minutes then Marian spoke.

"You did not come to see me on Wednesday, Lady Rhiannon. Did you not receive my message?" Lady Marian asked.

"Yes. I received it. But I had no wish to visit Locksley Castle. I heard all about the shape it's in. I knew you only wanted me there so you could gloat." Rhiannon said matter of factly.

"There's some things you don't know." Marian began.

"Really? Like what? Oh, wait a minute – why don't you ask me if I care, first?" Rhiannon blurted, suddenly not caring a damn for propriety.

"How dare you!" Lady Marian exclaimed.

"No. How dare _**you**_! You are standing upon the property of the Sheriff of Nottingham, and you dare to come here to warn me of him?" Rhiannon accused. "I don't care about the Sheriff you knew. I only care about the one that I know." She added.

"That's very romantic and sweet, Lady Rhiannon. But I will not have my Robin forgotten about either! I wanted to tell you about him. Go ahead, think what you will. You're cold. Just like him. You really are a perfect match." Lady Marian said. Her excuse was a lie. She did in fact invite Lady Rhiannon to Locksley Castle to fill her in on the story behind why it was nothing but ruins. The cursed wretch! The Sheriff's lady was clever too!

"How can you even speak of him without mentioning my betrothed? They were enemies. They were against each other from the beginning." Rhiannon pointed out.

"Oh, so he _**did**_ speak of Robin to you?" Marian hinted.

"Of course. He wanted me to know about his past, about the man he used to be. But he is not that man anymore." Rhiannon said adamantly.

"Really? I wouldn't be so sure of that. He'd shoot an arrow in your back if he were provoked. I've seen it. You better mind your behaviour around him. You're in for a real treat." Marian said. Then she left and went on her way.

Rhiannon was angry. She was angry at many. How dare she! She did it again – insulted the Sheriff to her. She wouldn't let this get to her. She had a task ahead. She sighed. It was time. She was going to use all of her feminine power to bewitch the Sheriff. She knew exactly what she would do.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was standing in the dining hall with Guy and Lady Meridwyn. The Sheriff and Guy were drinking brandy, and Lady Meridwyn was sipping on water. They had been waiting for Lady Rhiannon about fifteen minutes.

"So, where is she, cousin? It is almost dusk." Guy asked.

"Who knows? Maybe she's drinking a pitcher of water!" The Sheriff spat.

"It's curious, my Lord. This thirst she has all of the time." Meridwyn said.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. He realized he'd already said too much.

"Why is she so thirsty so much of the time?" Meridwyn asked.

The Sheriff cleared his throat. "She's been dehydrated ever since she awakened from her last illness. Nothing to worry about. She shall be fine." The Sheriff lied.

"Oh." Meridwyn said.

The Sheriff began to pace. "I do hate it when she keeps me waiting!" He exclaimed, mildly irritated. He walked closer toward the door near the table. Guy and Meridwyn were near the back of the room.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon, my Lord." Guy reassured.

"Well she better be!" The Sheriff barked.

Suddenly the door opened. The Sheriff turned toward it. Lady Rhiannon stood there. She cast him her special seductive glance. She was wearing the black and burgundy velvet gown she had been wearing the day they first met. He let out a soft gasp then he swallowed.

The skirt was black, but the rest of it a beautiful shade of burgundy. Like the rich colour of wine. It had a sweetheart neckline tied together with ribbons in a matching hue, and fitted sleeves. The bodice was fitted and pushed her breasts upward. They peaked slightly from the top of it. She began to slowly glide toward him. He never took his eyes off of her.

Guy smiled as he watched from his vantage point. It was like watching a play. It was the most seductive dance he'd ever witnessed, and yet all that was happening was Lady Rhiannon was walking slowly toward his cousin. It was the looks they cast at each other. Then he saw Rhiannon stop in front of the Sheriff.

Rhiannon stopped when she was just inches from the Sheriff. He stood staring at her. She raised her eyebrow and gave him a knowing grin.

"Miss me?" She asked in a hushed tone. She leaned in close to his ear. "Careful. Your tongue is showing. Save it for later…Sugar." Then she moved away, and winked at him before she smiled at Guy and Lady Meridwyn.

The Sheriff closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh. He knew she was being facetious but he could feel himself growing hard for her. It was going to be an interesting evening. He could already tell. Curses!

"Sir Guy! Meridwyn! I must say I was delighted when my man told me about our dinner engagement." Rhiannon said to them.

"We should have done this a long time ago." Meridwyn agreed.

"Indeed." Guy said.

"Some brandy, my dear?" The Sheriff asked Rhiannon, curtly.

"Oh yes, I could use something to warm me, for I feel a slight draft in the room." Rhiannon was quick to add.

"Touche." The Sheriff said.

Guy and Lady Meridwyn looked at them strangely then cast curious glances at each other.

They were interrupted when the door flew open. A tall, balding man, who was a little on the stout side stood there. He was wearing a long white apron over a black shirt and matching breeches.

"Bonsoir, mon Seigneur Sheriff." The man spoke. "Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, Jean Louis." The Sheriff replied. "I don't believe you've met my bride to be." He said. He looked to Rhiannon and motioned for her to come forward. She sighed and obeyed.

"This is Lady Rhiannon. She is going to be my bride." The Sheriff said.

"How do you do?" Rhiannon said.

"C'est un plaisir, ma dame." Jean Louis said.

"I know this is short notice, but we are in need of your services. Our wedding feast will be on September twenty sixth. Would you be willing to do it for us?" The Sheriff asked.

"It will be my pleasure, my Lord." Jean Louis said.

"Why don't you tell us what you're serving tonight?" The Sheriff suggested.

"Oui. Tonight's specialty is pot pouri stew, followed by galimafree." Jean Louis announced.

"Galimafree." The Sheriff mused. "Have you ever served that here before?"

"No, my Lord. It is a new recipe. It is a poultry fricassee sprinkled with verjuice and certain spices. It is surrounded by a special sauce made of vinegar, cinnamon, ginger, and breadcrumbs." Jean Louis explained.

The Sheriff made a face.

"That sounds divine." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Droit. Eh bien prendre votre place, je vais faire la vaisselle out." Jean Louis instructed as he scanned all of their faces.

"Pardon, Jean Louis?" The Sheriff asked.

"Forgive me." Jean Louis cleared his throat, embarrassed he'd forgotten himself. "Take your seats. I shall bring the dishes out." He said.

The Sheriff nodded. Jean Louis left the room.

The four of them took their seats at the rectangular table. The Sheriff and Guy were seated beside each other on one side of it, and their ladies were appropriately seated directly across from their men.

Rhiannon began to lightly trace the rim of her goblet. The Sheriff looked up. He watched her moving her fingertips slowly across it. Then she dipped her finger in the brandy and brought it up to her lips. She tasted it with her tongue and winked at him. He blinked. Then he shot her a look of warning. He glanced at Guy and Meridwyn. Luckily they hadn't noticed.

He looked back upon her. She returned his gaze. Her eyes were glazed over like she was completely bewitched. She was going to drive him to madness!

He sighed in frustration. Then he mouthed the words 'control yourself' to her.

Jean Louis returned to the room carrying a large tureen.

"The stew, mon Seigneur Sheriff." Jean Louis announced. He placed the tureen in the center of the table. He picked up a ladle that was already placed there on the table and began to ladle it into bowls for them.

"What's in this? It smells delicious." Meridwyn asked.

"Oui. It is a blend of veal, beef, mutton, vegetables, and bacon. Very tasty indeed." Jean Louis said.

The Sheriff nodded and Jean Louis left the room.

The stew was flavourful and satisfying. They were all exclaiming over it when Rhiannon reached across to grab the pitcher of water.

"Too much brandy, my dear?" The Sheriff asked.

"No. I'm just thirsty. The stew was rather salty." Rhiannon said. She picked up the pitcher and poured some water into the goblet.

He shot her a half smile. Why did she have to look so damn ravishing?

The door flew open again. Jean Louis was there holding a serving tray. A member of the kitchen staff accompanied him. He directed him to remove the bowls from the table. Jean Louis was placing the tray in the middle of the table when Rhiannon looked up at him.

"The stew was very good, Jean Louis. You must tell me sometime of your culinary secrets. For, I wish to please my Lord in every way." Rhiannon smiled. "More than just in the bed chamber if you know what I mean." She winked.

The Sheriff cleared his throat and tugged at his collar.

Guy grinned and cast a knowing look upon Meridwyn. She grinned back at him, trying not to burst out giggling.

"Oui." Jean Louis said. He began to carve the chicken and served it to them. Then he spooned sauce from the serving tray, and ladled it onto their plates.

"Thank you, Jean Louis." The Sheriff said.

Guy and Meridwyn were having a brief discussion about their upcoming nuptials. The Sheriff looked down at the poultry dish before him. He stabbed a small piece with his fork, dipped it in the sauce and tasted it. He made a face and swallowed. It was just as he imagined. Unpleasant. He reached across for his goblet of brandy. He looked up. Rhiannon was watching him. She smiled at him seductively. He took a sip of the brandy as he kept his eyes focused on hers, and she leaned forward so she could lower her voice. He raised his eyebrow but leaned in toward her.

"I'll have something satisfying for you to chew on later, lover." Rhiannon teased in a whisper.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff growled. "Control yourself!" He admonished.

"You wish!" She said as she leaned back in her seat.

She took a bite of the galimafree. "Mmm." She smiled at him. "So good." She drew the words out slowly and sensually as she licked her lips.

He sighed. She was like a demon possessed!

Guy cleared his throat. "Yes. It has a very interesting flavour." He agreed.

"Isn't it remarkable?" Lady Meridwyn interrupted the awkward moment. "Your wedding is just three weeks from today." She smiled at the Sheriff and Rhiannon.

"Yes. That _**is**_ remarkable." The Sheriff said.

"Are you excited?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

The Sheriff opened his mouth to answer but as usual - couldn't form the words quickly enough.

"Of course he is, Meridwyn. I like to keep him satisfied." Rhiannon said slowly.

The Sheriff shot her a warning gaze. Guy raised his eyebrow. Meridwyn turned her head to the right and shot her friend a suspicious glance.

Rhiannon looked around at their faces. "Oh, please. Don't act like you've never heard of what I'm talking about!" She brazenly admonished them.

The Sheriff realized he was finally shocked by the asinine words uttered from her lips. His jaw flew agape.

Rhiannon looked to Meridwyn, then to the Sheriff. "Funny, if either of you were alone with me, you'd agree with every word I'm saying. You'd participate in the discussion. But now that you're in each other's presence, you act like total prudes. You people sure know how to be party killers!" Rhiannon rolled her eyes.

"Rhiannon. Shut up." The Sheriff whispered gruffly.

She rolled her eyes but obeyed.

Ten minutes later, Guy and the ladies were just finishing their galimafree. The Sheriff and Guy were discussing the matter of the blacksmith among other points of business, when the Sheriff stopped in mid sentence. He felt something soft moving over his crotch. It was beginning to massage him.

The Sheriff tugged once more at his collar, sighed, and looked up. Rhiannon had an elbow leaned on the table and was chewing on her fingertip looking at him very seductively. His eyebrow shot north. He slowly and discreetly looked down to his lap. Her foot was there, massaging him, trying to make him hard – when he could do nothing about it!

"My Lord? You were saying?" Guy asked.

"It doesn't matter." The Sheriff growled.

Rhiannon increased the pressure applied to his manhood. He sighed. He had to stop her without calling attention to her. Why was she doing this to him now? In front of his cousin and Lady Meridwyn? Was she testing his reaction? Once again he was infuriated and aroused at the same time. He couldn't let her embarrass herself, however, so it was going to stop now.

"Did I tell you about a curious development regarding the kidnappers, cousin?" The Sheriff said to Guy. Rhiannon was undeterred. She kept up her act of seduction. He tried to ignore her.

Guy shot him a curious glance.

The Sheriff turned his head toward him and whispered. "Work with me, Guy."

"No, my Lord. You didn't tell me." Guy said.

"Yes. Well, it seems my lady knows the man who holds the child." He said. He turned his head back to face Rhiannon. "Don't you, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked with a snarl and his eyebrow raised.

She stopped massaging him with her foot and removed it from him.

"Yes." She said.

"She once courted him. Isn't that curious?" The Sheriff said.

"That's untrue!" Rhiannon said. "What's even more funny is the story he told me about it." Rhiannon said to Guy and Meridwyn.

The Sheriff shot her a warning look and shook his head.

"Really? What is that?" Guy went along with it.

"Oh, I couldn't begin to tell you." Rhiannon said as she kept her eyes upon the Sheriff. "It is so absurd I couldn't say. I wouldn't do that to him." She said.

"Really?" The Sheriff remarked.

"It's too deranged to comprehend." Rhiannon grinned.

The Sheriff sighed.

Guy cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should retire, my lady. You need your rest." Guy said to Meridwyn.

"Oh?" Meridwyn said. She looked up at Guy. He nodded to his left toward the Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon. "Right, my love. Some rest would do me good." Meridwyn agreed.

"I'm glad we could do this, cousin. It was…interesting." Guy said as he stood up.

The Sheriff held onto the edge of the table. He kept his eyes upon Rhiannon's when he answered.

"Yes…interesting." The Sheriff agreed, his jaw tightly set.

After his Lieutenant and Lady Meridwyn left, he slowly stood up and leaned across the table toward her.

"What do you think you were doing?" He asked gruffly.

"Playing." Rhiannon said.

He raised his eyebrow.

"Well, you told me I was playing at something, so I decided to show you the kind of game I can play." She said.

"You could've waited until we were alone!" The Sheriff admonished.

"Now, what would be the fun in that? You liked it didn't you?" Rhiannon asked.

"God. You angered me! Don't you get it?" The Sheriff asked as he walked around the table toward her.

"I get it. But you were more than just angry. You wanted it. I could see it in your eyes." Rhiannon grinned.

"You think." He said curtly.

"Oh, I know it. You wanted me. You couldn't wait for them to leave us so you could take me here and now."

He stood in front of her and put his hands upon her shoulders. "You think so?" He asked, sarcastically.

"You want it right now, don't you?" Rhiannon whispered. She began to untie the laces of her bodice.

"Why are you doing this?" The Sheriff whispered.

"To spice up your love life." Rhiannon said.

"It's not going to work." He said.

She pulled the edges of her bodice apart until her breasts were exposed. He gasped. Then she reached up and grabbed him by his collar and pulled him toward her.

He closed his eyes. "Rhiannon…" He whispered.

"I know you want me." She said as she pulled him closer then placed her soft lips upon his. He began to devour her with his lips and his tongue. Then he lifted her and sat her on the table. She lifted her gown and wrapped her legs around him. Rhiannon reached down and untied his codpiece then unlaced his breeches. The Sheriff reached behind her and in one sweeping motion, moved the dishes off the table. They fell to the floor in a great clamour. Then he pushed her back on the table and entered her. She was wild, like nothing he'd ever seen. Even though he was still angered with her, he liked what she was doing to him.

Their bodies moved in an urgent dance of desire. She loved the way he felt moving inside of her. The sensations always heightened after she drank the potion. She liked what it did for them. Afterward, he fell on top of her, both of them breathless while he kissed her. A few moments later she broke the kiss and surprised him with another stab at innuendo.

"Told you it's hard for me to think about food." She grinned.

The Sheriff shook his head and smiled. "You're truly something else, my lady. We should be going. I'm surprised my chef didn't come in when he heard the noise. Maybe he guessed?" The Sheriff winked.

"Perhaps." Rhiannon smiled.

"That was uh…interesting, my lady. But in future however, it would be nice if you wouldn't be so public about it." The Sheriff said.

"I could try. But I don't know if I can promise." Rhiannon smiled.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff admonished.

"Oh, alright. But I can still try, can't I?"

"Flirt with me all you want, my angel. It will not go unnoticed I can promise you that. But massaging me under the table is a little more than flirting." The Sheriff said.

"It worked for now, didn't it?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Alright, I admit it. I liked it. But once was enough, unless we're alone." He said. "You can do that to me whenever you want…if we're alone." The Sheriff added with a grin.

"I thought you'd like that." Rhiannon smirked.

"Come, my love, let's get out of here." He stood up and began to lace his breeches. She tied the ribbons on the bodice of her gown. Then she stood up and smoothed her skirts.

"A fine choice of attire, my lady." The Sheriff smiled. "I remembered." He added.

"I know." Rhiannon said. He moved toward her and offered her his hand. She took it.

"How did you know?" The Sheriff asked.

"I could tell by the look on your face when you first saw me tonight." Rhiannon replied. "I knew right then that you recognized my gown."

"A very clever strategy to get my attention, my lady." The Sheriff smirked.

"Just one of the tricks I have up my sleeve for you, sugar." Rhiannon teased.

He sighed. He didn't know where all of this sensual behaviour of hers was coming from, but he liked it. A little too much he realized.

They left the dining hall and ran into Jean Louis in the corridor.

"I think she approves of your culinary talents." The Sheriff said to him as he nodded to Rhiannon.

"Oh yes. You're very skilled in the kitchen." Rhiannon agreed as she smiled at Jean Louis.

"Merci, Mademoiselle Rhiannon."

"Ce n'est rien." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff shot his head toward her and raised his eyebrow, surprised that she just spoke French.

"Mademoiselle! You know French?" Jean Louis asked.

"No. Only a little. Just what I picked up from a few visits with my seamstress." She said.

Jean Louis smiled.

"Oh, I regret to tell you there was a small accident in there." The Sheriff said as he nodded toward the dining hall. "I'm uh…sorry about the mess." The Sheriff said.

Jean Louis looked at him strangely.

"Oui, mon Seigneur Sheriff." Jean Louis said.

The Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon continued on their way. After a time, Rhiannon began to giggle.

The Sheriff smiled. "What is so amusing, my angel?" He asked her.

"Do you think he'll figure out why the dishes are on the floor?" Rhiannon asked.

"Who cares?" The Sheriff laughed. "I'm sure he'll figure it out, but I don't care what he thinks." The Sheriff said.

She stopped and turned to face him. "Come on, admit it. You liked it, didn't you?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff grinned. "Yes, my lady. Although, it was rather…awkward." The Sheriff said.

"Where's your sense of danger?" Rhiannon challenged. "Don't you know that was what attracted me to you to begin with?"

"What was, my lady?" The Sheriff asked, his curiousity piqued.

"It was this air of danger about you. I was drawn to it. I had to try, you understand." Rhiannon explained.

"I'm glad you did." The Sheriff smiled. He cleared his throat. "I might come across as wild and dangerous to you, but I can assure you I've never engaged in public displays of intimacy before. Yes, it was fun, Rhiannon. It was dangerous and it was exciting. In fact it was amazing. But I wouldn't want to make a habit of it. Just control that foot of yours." The Sheriff reminded her.

She sighed. "Yes, my Lord." Rhiannon said.


	49. Chapter 49

On Saturday afternoon, Rhiannon went into the private chambers. She headed straight for the flask under the bed, pulled it out from under there and began to drink from the flask. She took three or four generous gulps, capped the flask and put it back under the bed.

Just then the doors flew open. Curses! Now what would she do? No!

The Sheriff looked around the room with his eyes narrowed curiously. He thought he saw something beside the bed directly in front of him. He sighed. It was her hair.

"Rhiannon! What are you doing?" The Sheriff demanded.

She sighed and put her hand to her face. What will I do? She thought. She felt her earring as her fingers absently trailed over her jaw line.

"Rhiannon? Are you hurt?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward her.

She stood up. "I dropped my earring." She said as she held out her palm. It was sitting there in her hand.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow.

She walked to the table behind her and grabbed the goblet of ale. She quickly washed down the vile taste of the potion. She turned around to face him. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"Right." The Sheriff said as he rolled his eyes. "I have a message for you. Lady Meridwyn has summoned you to Guy's private chambers." The Sheriff informed her.

"Is something wrong? Not the baby?" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"No, my love." The Sheriff said. He was pleased to see her reaction over the child. Sometimes he wondered if she even cared if she ever had a child? "I think she wishes to show you something." The Sheriff smiled. It was the wedding gown. It had just arrived. The Sheriff knew this but decided to tease her…just a little.

"Oh. Right now?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well, I presume as close to 'now' as ever." The Sheriff replied, rather perplexed by her response.

"Can't it wait?" Rhiannon asked.

"Rhiannon, she wants to show you her wedding gown." The Sheriff said. "I'm sure she won't want to wait on you all day." He added.

"That was supposed to be my gown." Rhiannon whispered.

"My lady?" The Sheriff asked.

"I offered it to her. I wanted her to have it because heaven knows what she would have done. But now… I feel strange about it." Rhiannon said. "I know I shouldn't, but I do."

"She'll be disappointed it you don't go." The Sheriff pointed out.

"It's just…well, it's a beautiful gown. Now Madam Oberon must start from the beginning on mine. What if… mine is ugly?" Rhiannon mused.

The Sheriff chuckled. "You can't be serious?" He said.

"It's a possibility isn't it?" Rhiannon asked.

"My lady, you will be positively radiant. I don't know why you'd worry about it? Madam Oberon is not known for creating unattractive attire." The Sheriff reassured.

"She has been so busy making other people's gowns: Lady Brigid, Lady Meridwyn, Lady _" She caught herself and swallowed. Her face flushed.

"Who else, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked.

"I've forgotten her name. Another woman in the village. She was there on Tuesday, picking up her gown."

"Really?" The Sheriff remarked suspiciously. Was she going to say: 'Lady Marian'? Is this the secret she's been hiding? That would explain the arrogance. Marian is rubbing off on her if his assumption was right!

"The point is that Madam Oberon might be worn out from making the other ones. By the time she gets to mine, it will be thrown together hodgepodge, because she'll be too tired of making gowns to care about it!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

His eyebrow shot north. She was truly serious! She was behaving like a young school girl.

"Rhiannon. Get a hold of yourself. You know you're being irrational." The Sheriff said.

"I am not being irrational!" Rhiannon cried out.

"Well you had better find a way to calm yourself because you're going to see Lady Meridwyn." The Sheriff stated adamantly.

"Who are you to tell me what I should do?" Rhiannon challenged.

The Sheriff sighed. "You know what you must do, whether or not I tell you to do it." The Sheriff said.

She stood staring at him rather speechless. She hated to admit it, but he was right.

"Yes." She sighed. "This is going to be difficult. I just know Meridwyn's gown will be stunning." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff shook his head and grinned. "My lady, when it comes to this matter, you really _**are**_ being irrational. You shall be the most beautiful bride in all of England. I'm certain of it. No matter what you'll be wearing, I know I won't be able to take my eyes off of you." He smiled.

She looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yes. Now, go." The Sheriff said.

She smiled and started to leave the chamber then stopped at the door to turn around.

"Where am I going?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff looked at her suspiciously. Was she being serious?

"What?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"Where is it you're sending me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Guy's private chambers." The Sheriff replied slowly.

"Oh. Why do I have to go there?" She asked.

The Sheriff was stunned. He walked toward her. "Tell me you're joking." The Sheriff said, his eyes narrowed upon her.

"No. I forgot where you told me I was going is all." Rhiannon lied. She was so frustrated. Why couldn't she remember? The only good thing was she still felt good from the potion.

"What's going on, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked.

"Nothing!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "Why do I have to go there? Just tell me!"

"We just spoke of it. Why can't you remember some things only moments after they're spoken?" The Sheriff asked as he placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"I'm just tired. Can you just tell me?" Rhiannon pleaded.

"Lady Meridwyn has summoned you." The Sheriff said. He searched her eyes with his. She was staring but not looking at him. Her pupils were unusually large.

"Are you unwell, my lady?" The Sheriff asked.

"I have a headache." Rhiannon said flatly.

"Is there anything I can do?" The Sheriff offered.

"Yes. Stop patronizing me!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "I have a headache because everyone is doing their best to annoy me." Rhiannon huffed.

"Well then…don't let me interrupt." The Sheriff said with his eyebrow raised at her. He removed his hands from her shoulders.

She glared at him, then turned and left the room.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes later Rhiannon was standing in the Lieutenant's private chambers. Meridwyn stood near the center of the room, bedecked in her wedding gown, twirling in one spot to show it off to her friend. Just as Rhiannon knew it would be, it was quite spectacular. She swallowed. She could feel a heat rise within her as envy surfaced.

"It's lovely, Meridwyn." Rhiannon choked.

"It's perfect! You think Guy will like it?" Meridwyn asked.

"Of course he will. Now…you should take it off. It's bad luck, and besides, it might get wrinkled." Rhiannon suggested.

Meridwyn looked at her strangely at first. But then once she thought about it, she realized Rhiannon was making sense. "Oh. Right." Meridwyn said. She stepped behind a screen and emerged minutes later wearing a different gown.

"I can't believe I shall be Lady Gisborne in two days!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"Yes. Are you nervous?" Rhiannon asked.

"No. I'm more eager than anxious. I've known him almost three years. What's there to be nervous about?" Meridwyn said.

"I can think of one thing." Rhiannon said.

"What's that?"

"Loss of freedom." Rhiannon said.

Meridwyn regarded her strangely. "George loves you, Rhiannon. Together you're both stronger. How free would you be if you didn't have him?" Meridwyn asked. She knew that would make her think.

Rhiannon pondered that a moment. "You're right. I wouldn't want to have to live without him." She said. She sighed and looked back to Lady Meridwyn. "Have you always wanted to be a mother?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well, I never really gave much thought to it. I knew it would happen sometime. I knew it would just follow in the natural progression of things." Meridwyn said.

"I don't really want it. Not now." Rhiannon said.

"Is that why you're afraid of getting married?" Meridwyn asked.

Rhiannon began to scratch her arms. For some reason her skin was feeling itchy. "Who said I was afraid of getting married?"

"You did. When you mentioned loss of freedom. It could still happen, Rhiannon. You don't need to be married to find yourself carrying a child." Meridwyn pointed out.

Rhiannon shot Meridwyn a look.

"If you're intimate with the Sheriff, you could easily find yourself in the same situation I'm in." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon sighed. "Right. Sometimes I forget. I don't want a child, but I want him!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Welcome to the biggest dilemma faced with women kind. How to have fun without becoming a mother? If someone could solve that problem for us it would be grand!" Meridwyn said.

"That will never happen. No man would ever invent anything like that. All physicians are men. It would take a lady physician to conceive of an idea like that. Can you imagine? A lady physician?" Rhiannon mused.

"You're right. That will never happen." Meridwyn said.

"It's just that…things are good the way they are." Rhiannon began as she walked toward the window. She scratched her arms again. "I love my life with George. I don't wish to share him. Not even with a child. Does that make me a bad person?" Rhiannon wondered.

"No. It doesn't make you a bad person. But when it happens, you shall share it together." Meridwyn stated.

"Whatever." Rhiannon remarked. She stood by the window and gazed out. She began to rub her chest. Why was she so itchy? Meridwyn raised her eyebrow.

"Tell me…" Rhiannon began. "When someone is wanted by the Sheriff, what kind of punishment does that person receive when they are caught?"

"Rhiannon?" Meridwyn said.

"You must know. You've known him longer than I have!" Rhiannon remarked abruptly.

"Well, that all depends on what they're wanted for. In most cases the outlaw is hung." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon swallowed. She suddenly began scratching her arms again. "What if the person is wanted… alive?"

"Then maybe they won't be executed. I'm not sure. It's just a guess." Meridwyn said.

Rhiannon sighed. She was feeling miserable. The potion! That would make her feel better. She was scratching her arms as she moved toward the door. She turned back to face Meridwyn.

"The gown is lovely, Meridwyn. I need to go. Can we talk later?" Rhiannon pleaded. She was fidgeting a great deal as she stood there.

"Very well." Meridwyn said, trying to conceal her suspicion.

________________________________________________________________________________________

A short while later, Rhiannon was approaching the Sheriff's private chambers. What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly feel an overpowering need to have a taste of that potion?

When she opened the door into the den, she was startled to see the Sheriff standing there sipping on brandy. Rhiannon let out a scream. The Sheriff jumped.

"You're here!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "God!" She stood there fidgeting, and couldn't stop scratching her arms.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north automatically at her bizarre behaviour. "Yes, my angel. I just brought you a package and decided to partake of some brandy. You seem surprised?" The Sheriff said. Why was she so jumpy?

"Oh dear…" Rhiannon said. She needed to get rid of him. She needed to get into the private chamber. "Don't you have something to do?" She asked.

"My lady?"

She stood there fidgeting and swaying. She was rubbing her arms and now her chest incessantly.

The Sheriff regarded her curiously with his eyes narrowed and walked toward her.

"Damn." Rhiannon muttered.

He came closer and reached out to place his hands upon her shoulders.

"Don't touch me." Rhiannon said a little too abruptly. She looked up at him and sighed. "It's just better if you don't right now." She explained.

"My lady, are you alright?"

"No, but I will be. Where is the package?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's on the bed in the private chamber. Why don't you go and have a look?" The Sheriff smiled. "I'll wait here."

"Will you?" Rhiannon said. She continued to scratch her arms and chest.

"Yes, my lady. I'll be right here." The Sheriff said as he eyed her suspiciously.

"Okay. I'll be right back." Rhiannon said. Then she practically bolted to the private chamber and shut the door behind her, leaving the Sheriff standing there stunned. Why the need to run?

She ran toward the bed and dived to the floor. She shimmied under the bed and grabbed the flask. She stood up, uncapped it, and drank three or four gulps. She sighed. She put the cap back on and looked to the bed. There was a box placed there. She sat the flask upon the bed.

She opened the box. Underneath mounds of tissue she found a garment neatly folded there. It was navy velvet but she couldn't tell just yet what it was. There was a folded piece of parchment there. She picked it up, unfolded it, and began to read:

"_Mademoiselle Rhiannon;_

_I noticed you admiring my gown when you first came for your fitting. I realized the colour would be perfect for you. I wasn't sure what you'd be wearing to Mademoiselle Meridwyn's wedding. I thought maybe you might like something new._

_Kindest Regards,_

_Arianna Oberon."_

Rhiannon smiled. She lifted the gown from the box and held it up. It was beautiful.

There was a knock on the door. Curses! She quickly hid the flask among the tissue inside the box.

"Come in." She called out.

The doors opened and the Sheriff stood there before her.

"Well, are you going to show me? I know what was in the package." The Sheriff grinned as he came toward her.

She smiled, and she didn't know why but her eyes watered.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff asked. Was that tears in her eyes?

"Look what Madam Oberon made for me. It's beautiful!" Rhiannon said as she held it up to show him. Then her eyes were downcast and she draped the garment over her arm.

"Yes, my angel. But why do you seem melancholy?" He asked.

"I insulted her earlier. And I wasn't very nice to Meridwyn. And now I feel…stupid." Lady Rhiannon said.

She was confused in that moment. The itching was gone. So was the nervousness. She managed to take that away. But why couldn't she just feel good? Maybe she needed more of the potion?

"We all make mistakes, my lady. I'm sure you were fine." The Sheriff said.

"I couldn't stand to look at it a moment longer. I told her to take it off – that it was bad luck." Rhiannon confessed.

"Lady Meridwyn, you mean?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sure she didn't even notice." The Sheriff reassured.

"I hope so." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff suddenly noticed how much calmer she seemed than when she was in the den just moments ago.

"Are you feeling better now?" The Sheriff asked.

"What? Who said I didn't feel well?" Rhiannon said.

"You did, a moment ago." The Sheriff pointed out. "I asked if you were alright. You said: 'No, but I will be.' You must have brilliant powers of prediction, my dear, because you certainly seem calmer to me." The Sheriff hinted with his left eyebrow raised.

"Do I?" Rhiannon remarked. She shrugged and went to the bed. She almost put the gown back in the box but remembered the flask was in there.

He walked toward her. "What was wrong with you when you were out in the den? I've never seen you like that before." The Sheriff said.

"I don't know. I just felt strange." Rhiannon said.

"Are you with child?" The Sheriff asked.

"What? God! No!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "Don't even say that!"

"My lady?"

"No. I'm not sick. I'm not with child. I'm just…I don't know. I'm not sleeping well." Rhiannon lied.

"Yes. You had a nightmare two nights ago." The Sheriff recalled.

"Why won't they just go away? For all the vile potion I'm drinking, I shouldn't be able to remember!" Rhiannon blurted.

"Is that so?" The Sheriff pried.

She realized her mistake. "Well, I've been drinking it every morning – for almost a fortnight now." Rhiannon said.

"The quantity looked pretty small from what I could see." The Sheriff pointed out.

"It's not working. But it has to!" Rhiannon said. Her eyes closed. She began to sway.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff called out to her. He caught her in his arms. She opened her eyes to look at him but her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes were glazed over again.

"My lady Rhiannon!" The Sheriff exclaimed.

"Mmm?" Rhiannon whispered as she tried to focus. She reached up and put her hand to her forehead.

"Speak to me, damnit!" The Sheriff commanded. What was happening to her? She'd been acting even more peculiarly since returning from her visit with Lady Meridwyn?

"My lord." She said. "Oh, my head hurts." She whispered.

"My angel, you're not well. Let me send for Lady Margaret or Mortianna." The Sheriff suggested.

"No!" Rhiannon remarked defiantly as her eyes flew open.

"You clearly need attending to." The Sheriff advised.

"I don't need anybody." Rhiannon countered.

"Well, maybe you should rest awhile." The Sheriff suggested.

"Perhaps." Rhiannon relented.

He led her to the bed. She sat down then reclined back against the soft silky pillows. He moved toward the box to remove it from the bed.

"Don't touch that!" Rhiannon said a little too quickly.

"My lady?"

"I'll move it later." Rhiannon smiled.

The Sheriff shook his head slightly. "As you wish, my lady." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She smiled at him then he moved toward the door.

"George?" Rhiannon called out to him weakly.

He turned around. "Yes, my lady?" He replied.

"Don't send for them. I'll be fine." Rhiannon said.

"Tell you what…" The Sheriff began. "I'll give you two hours to be fine. And if you're not fine by then…you lose." He said.

She sighed. "Fine." She said.

He closed the door behind him and went straight through the door that led down into Mortianna's apothecary. He opened the door at the foot of the stairs and called out to Mortianna. She greeted him in moments.

"My child. What troubles thee?" Mortianna asked.

"Tell me, Mortianna. What are the symptoms of thorn apple seed poisoning?" The Sheriff asked.

Mortianna raised her eyebrow. "Why? Lady Rhiannon can't be poisoned. I'm giving her a very weak concentration." Mortianna reminded him.

"I know. But remember what you told me about not wanting her to hoard it?" The Sheriff asked. He sighed. "I think she might be stealing it from you." The Sheriff said.

"Impossible. I would know!" Mortianna said.

"Just tell me the signs. I need to know. She is not right, Madam!" The Sheriff implored her.

"Very well." Mortianna said. He followed her as she moved to the large table beside her cauldron. Her book of shadows was lying on the table. She opened it and flipped through the pages until she found the reference she was seeking.

"Ahh, yes. Here it is." Mortianna said.

"What does it say?" The Sheriff asked, as he cast his eyes down upon the book.

"The herb causes sedation, lack of will, amnesia…wait. Here's more of what you seek: signs of poisoning include dry mouth, blurred vision, dilated pupils, confusion, combative behaviour, seeing or hearing things that are not present, itching that is relieved when the potion is taken, headache…" Mortianna recited.

The Sheriff's head shot up abruptly. "What did you say about the itching part?" The Sheriff asked, his eyebrow raised.

Mortianna looked back down at the book and began to scan the page. "Right." She said. "Itching that is relieved when the potion is taken. Oh, it also says that about nervousness too. That subjects may be jumpy or fidgety which subsides when the potion is taken." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. Not long ago in the den Rhiannon stood there incessantly scratching her arms and her chest. She was jumpy and constantly fidgeting. But when he saw her again moments later in the private chamber, she was no longer jumpy, or continuing to scratch! His eyes flew open. She must have had some potion hidden somewhere in there! That's why she was so startled to see him standing in the den. She needed the drug and she needed it fast. But she didn't expect to have company! He sighed.

"Keep an eye on your inventory, Madam. She's stealing from you alright." The Sheriff said.

"You're certain?" Mortianna asked.

"As certain as there is a sun and a moon." The Sheriff said.

"Was she itching or jumpy to you at some point?" Mortianna pried.

"Yes. Not very long ago, in fact." The Sheriff replied.

Mortianna sighed. "That's not good. That means she's grown dependant on it." She said.

Mortianna moved toward the shelves. She reached up and pulled down two large flasks. "Oh, no." Mortianna sighed.

"What is it?" The Sheriff asked.

"There should be more here. I don't know why I never noticed it?" Mortianna said.

"I'm telling you, she has a stash of it hidden somewhere! But the best way of catching her is to find out how she is stealing it from you." The Sheriff hinted.

"How do you propose we do that?" Mortianna asked.

"I could hide somewhere here and watch her while she's here to take the potion. She must be getting it somehow. We need to know how she does it." He said.

"Indeed. Come early in the morning, then I shall call for her." Mortianna said.

"I was hoping you would say that." The Sheriff said.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Rhiannon awakened just before dawn on Sunday. She was restless and jumpy. She slid out of the bed quietly and moved to the floor. She stretched out prone and was reaching under the bed when the Sheriff began to stir in his sleep. She sighed. This was not going to work. She got up and sat in front of the bed hugging her knees to her chest. Every time she moved to retrieve the flask from under the bed, the Sheriff began to move around. So she waited. She waited a very long time…

When the Sheriff awoke, dawn was just breaking. He reached over while his eyes were still closed to touch his lady. He felt around but she wasn't in reach. His eyes flew open and he sat up. He scanned the room. He blinked when he saw her sitting on the floor. She had her knees drawn up to her chest as she held them there, and she was rocking back and forth staring at the floor in front of her, facing the bed.

"Rhiannon? Are you alright?" The Sheriff asked as he quickly arose from the bed and went to her.

"Yes. Just restless. I couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake you." She said. She began to scratch her arms. Then she stood up and began to frantically pace in front of him, all the while scratching her arms and rubbing her chest.

The Sheriff slowly shook his head. She wasn't paying attention anyway. A look of concern spread across his face. It was just barely dawn and look at her…she was already desperate for it! He liked to see energy, but watching her was making him tired. She was manic! He sighed. He couldn't act any differently toward her. He'd never catch her in the act if he showed too much concern.

"Well, look, I'm awake now. Why don't you at least come and sit on the bed?" The Sheriff suggested.

She exhaled a sigh then came toward him. She went to the bed and seated herself. He sat down beside her.

"Nightmares again, my lady?" The Sheriff asked.

She looked over at him and smiled. "Yes." Rhiannon said as she continued to scratch her arms and her chest. She crossed one leg over the other and began to bounce her foot back and forth. After a few minutes of this, the Sheriff wanted to hit her leg. This was madness! She was bouncing all over the place! How much of this stuff had she taken? The Sheriff wondered. He stood up, then he began to get dressed.

"You're leaving already?" Rhiannon feigned her disappointment. Normally she would be disappointed, but she needed to get rid of him, for now.

"I'll be back, my angel. I won't be long." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon looked at him curiously as she began to scratch her arms again. "Alright." She said.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, she moved to the floor. She crouched down under the bed and grabbed the flask. She uncapped it, took a few sips, then placed the flask back under the bed. She climbed back on the bed and lay against the pillows. She felt better already. She didn't like the itching that just suddenly started. But the potion helped. Her resources were getting low. She was going to have to ration what she had, and try to obtain more. She was beginning to feel warmed, content, and relaxed. She smiled and closed her eyes. She hugged her lover's pillow next to her breathing in his scent. It would suffice until he returned.

Ten minutes later she was blissfully beginning to doze. The doors opened. She stirred slightly but her eyes remained closed. The Sheriff entered holding a tray with cinnamon pastry, eggs, and fresh squeezed juice. He placed it on the table beside the bed. He looked down at her. She was calm and completely content. Her face was relaxed, her eyes were closed, and she had a smile upon her face. That could only mean one thing. She took some potion after he left. Just as he knew in his gut she would. That's why he did it - to test her. In fact, it was more of test to himself - to prove his own theory that she was stealing Mortianna's potion. Except the outcome he was looking for was to prove that he was wrong. He sighed. She definitely had her own supply of Mortianna's potion.

"Rhiannon?" He whispered.

She opened her eyes. They glistened like glass. "Mmm. There you are my dear, dark prince." Rhiannon purred. "I was hoping you wouldn't be gone too long." She said.

She was a completely different person from the woman he left only fifteen minutes ago.

"I brought you a tray." The Sheriff said.

"How sweet. You are so good to me." Rhiannon whispered.

"You reap what you sow, my love." The Sheriff smiled.

She smiled. "Just tell me one thing." Rhiannon said.

"Okay." The Sheriff said.

"Did you bring me some water?"

"No." He replied.

"Oh. That's too bad." Rhiannon sighed.

"I have juice for you instead." The Sheriff said.

She smiled as her eyes closed. "I'm grateful, my love. But I think I want to close my eyes, just for a little bit." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Sweet dreams, my beautiful lady." He whispered.

An hour later he was down in Mortianna's lair.

"It's good we're going to get to the bottom of this." The Sheriff said. "That potion has her in a bad way. You'll see."

"Is she worse?" Mortianna asked.

"She was practically bouncing off the walls and the furniture when I awoke this morning! I decided to go and get her a tray. When I brought it back she was relaxed and content." The Sheriff said.

Mortianna clicked her tongue against her palette a few beats. "Dear Zeus! She must be taking a lot of it!" Mortianna said.

"You think?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously. "It was only dawn and she was already craving it!" He huffed.

Mortianna sighed.

"Where can I hide, Mortianna?" The Sheriff asked.

"Come… over here." Mortianna beckoned. She took him to a hallway that went off from the main room. It was between where the small table was and the area where the large table, cauldron, and Mortianna's implements were.

"You can stand here and peak around the corner. It's dark, she won't see you." Mortianna said.

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yes. Take your place and I shall send for her." Mortianna instructed.

He went in and put his back against the wall. Mortianna went to pull the cord to ring the bell in the den for Lady Rhiannon's signal.

She entered moments later. She was wearing her pale orange gown that had white organza sleeves that was embellished with delicate white ribbons.

"Hello, Mortianna. I'm here." Rhiannon called.

The Sheriff peaked around the corner. He'd never seen the gown before. She looked radiant in it. He swallowed. He felt somewhat guilty for spying on her, but he didn't know how else to help her.

"Come, my child." Mortianna beckoned. "Take a seat." She motioned to the chair at the small table.

Rhiannon obeyed. The Sheriff watched as Mortianna came toward him to walk past him to obtain her supplies. She purposely ignored him which worked perfectly. Rhiannon would never suspect. The witch picked up a small vial, a bowl, and a small stick then went back to where Lady Rhiannon was seated. She put them down upon the table.

"How do you feel?" Mortianna began the daily round of questioning.

"Fine." Rhiannon replied.

"Any ill effects?"

"None whatsoever." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff shook his head. She was completely disillusioned!

"What memory are you trying to erase?" Mortianna asked.

"Him. The man who held me prisoner." Rhiannon said. "Must we go over this every blessed day?" She added angrily.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow at her outburst. But she was only getting started.

"Yes, my child." Mortianna said. "What did the man do?" She pried.

"He hurt me! God! Just give it to me!" Rhiannon shrieked.

The Sheriff's eyes widened as he watched her. She was completely beside herself.

Mortianna raised an eyebrow. She began to stir the mixture in the bowl. When she was satisfied it was appropriately mixed, she picked up the vial with one hand and the bowl with the other. She carefully poured from the bowl into the vial. Then she sat the bowl back down on the table.

Rhiannon extended her hand out toward Mortianna.

"Give it to me!" Rhiannon demanded.

Mortianna passed the vial to her. Rhiannon grabbed it and quickly brought it to her lips. She tilted her head back to pour it in her mouth. The Sheriff shook his head. She drank from the vial like a man in a desert would drink water if he suddenly found an oasis!

She gave the vial back to Mortianna. "Some ale, Mortianna?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, yes. I forgot." Mortianna said. She turned and went back toward the large table. The Sheriff kept his eyes on Rhiannon. Her hands went to her lap. He was to the right of her. He could see her put her right hand in the pocket of her gown. She fiddled with it a moment then brought something out of it. It was small. His eyebrow shot north. He looked to his left. Mortianna was trying to find the ale. The Sheriff shot his glance back to the right toward Rhiannon. She was reaching for the bowl. She lifted it from the table with her left hand, and brought her right hand up from her lap. Whatever was in her hand must have been a small jar or vial to pour the liquid into!

"Here it is, my child." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff was startled by the crone's voice but kept his gaze in the direction of Rhiannon. She looked to be muttering something, no doubt curses, and put the bowl back. Then she returned her right hand to her pocket.

So she didn't get more for her supply…this time! The Sheriff shook his head. The potion must've really taken a hold of her. She was certainly being brazen about stealing it.

Mortianna arrived at the table and passed the cup of ale to Rhiannon. Rhiannon drank the entire contents from it. Mortianna smiled then turned to take the cup back to the large table.

The Sheriff watched Rhiannon reach for the bowl again. She looked to her lap, then she shrugged. She turned her head in Mortianna's direction, then she brought the bowl up to her lips and drank from it. His jaw flew agape. If he wasn't seeing it, he never would've believed it! She put the bowl back and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"Are we finished, Mortianna?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, my child. I will see you on the morrow. Twenty four hours from hence." Mortianna said.

Rhiannon nodded, then bolted for the stairs.

A few minutes later the Sheriff came out from his vantage point in the hallway.

"You were right. Her demeanor is different." Mortianna said.

The Sheriff nodded. His eyes downcast.

"Did you see anything?" Mortianna asked.

"When you went to get her the ale, she extracted something small from her pocket. I couldn't see it – maybe a jar or a vial. She reached for the bowl and was going to transfer the potion from it to whatever was in her hand." The Sheriff said shaking his head.

"And then?" Mortianna asked.

"You caught her off guard and her plan failed." The Sheriff replied. "But when you took the cup back, I watched her pick up the bowl and drink from it!" The Sheriff spat.

"She _**has**_ grown dependant on it." Mortianna said solemnly.

"Now what?" The Sheriff mused.

"We do this again, tomorrow. Now that I know how she does it, I can give her more time to accomplish her task." Mortianna hinted.

"Yes." The Sheriff grinned. "Right. I shall see you on the morrow." He said.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later they were gathered in the reception hall outside of the cathedral. The same place her first caught sight of her. Mass had just finished. The Sheriff and Guy and their ladies were speaking with the Bishop of Hereford. After a time, Rhiannon started to fidget and began to scratch her arms. The Sheriff noticed right away but tried not to show a reaction.

"Excuse me." She said as she looked up at him. Then she turned and made her way back toward the door.

As the Sheriff watched her leave he began to slowly shake his head.

"Is she alright, my Lord?" The Bishop inquired.

The Sheriff turned back to face him. "No, but she will be." He replied sarcastically. Then he started on his way after her.

Rhiannon was almost to the door when she heard a voice.

"Psst…Rhiannon." A voice called out.

Rhiannon looked to her right. In the shadows there was a figure. The figure stepped out into the light. It was Lady Marian. Rhiannon walked toward her.

The Sheriff kept walking and as he did he scanned his field of vision looking for any sign of her. As he neared the door he thought he heard women talking. He couldn't see them but he walked slowly in the direction of their voices. He was standing near a pillar and peaked around it. He adjusted his vision in the dark by blinking. One of the maidens was definitely Lady Rhiannon. She was talking to another maiden. Who was she?

"It's got to be time for you to return to wherever it is you came from isn't it?" Rhiannon asked sarcastically.

"When I finish settling my affairs." The maiden said.

He knew that voice. He squinted as he studied her. Was that… Lady Marian?

"What do you want from me?" Lady Rhiannon said.

"To tell you the truth." Lady Marian said.

"Lady Marian, it's time you face it. You and I can never be friends. It can never be." Rhiannon said.

"Well, it's good I'm only going to be in Nottingham a short time isn't it?" Lady Marian remarked.

"You loved Robin. I love the Sheriff. Nothing you can say to me will change that." Rhiannon said as she absently began to scratch her arms and her chest.

The Sheriff sighed as he watched her.

"I hope he appreciates your devotion. I think it's misguided, myself." Lady Marian said. She noticed Rhiannon scratching herself. "What is wrong with you, anyway?" She asked Rhiannon.

"An adverse reaction to you!" Lady Rhiannon spat.

The Sheriff managed to stifle a laugh. Rhiannon turned on her heel and took her leave.

The Sheriff came out from the wings and advanced toward Lady Marian. She had her back to him. He put his hand out to her shoulder and completely caught her off guard. She jumped and turned around.

"Oh!" She said.

"Fancy that…us meeting like this." The Sheriff said briskly.

"I did not expect to see you." Lady Marian stammered.

"Don't insult me, Marian. You knew I'd be here. You know damn well that Lady Rhiannon and I plan to be wed. I know all about it." The Sheriff seethed.

"Well…congratulations. You're smarter than I thought." Lady Marian said.

"What were you doing? What have you told my lady?" The Sheriff demanded with his eyebrow raised.

"I haven't had the chance to say very much. She is so blindly infatuated with you she won't listen to me. Seems a shame. She's a nice lady. If she wasn't affiliated with you I could picture being friends with her. I thought she deserved a warning. Turns out I discovered you met your perfect match." Marian said sarcastically.

"You can bet on it." The Sheriff snarled.

She pulled away from him. "Don't waste your time on me, dear Sheriff. Your lady went that way." Marian said as she pointed toward the door.

"Stay away from her, Marian." The Sheriff warned. Marian just gave him a knowing smirk.

"I'm warning you." The Sheriff seethed.

"What are you going to do? Attempt to rape me again? Did you mention _**that**_ to her, or did that just slip your mind?" Marian challenged him.

The Sheriff clenched his jaw and sighed. He looked to the floor. "Get out of my sight." He said evenly.

Marian inched closer toward him. "Oh, come on…don't you want to hit me? Don't you want to hurt me… just a little bit?" Marian asked. She stopped when she was just inches away from him. He looked up and into her almond shaped brown eyes. If she didn't have such an ugly soul, he could love her.

"Now, where's that Sheriff that I remember? What happened to _**him**_? Aww, did the lion turn into the pussycat?" Marian taunted.

The Sheriff shook his head. "You have gone… completely daft." The Sheriff said slowly. "It's a shame, really. You're even worse than you used to be!" He spat.

"You know, if you once… just once – treated me like a lady, I might've chosen you over him." Lady Marian said.

The Sheriff stared at her. "You didn't give me a reason to treat you like a lady." He said.

"You were a handsome devil. The operative word being - 'devil'. The trouble was, once I got to know you, I couldn't see it any longer." Marian said.

"You're wasting my time." The Sheriff growled.

"She doesn't deserve you. You know it right down to your core. She's too good for you. And one day she's going to know the truth. Whether or not she hears it from me, don't worry – she'll know. I'm not the only one who remembers the real you and that den of iniquity you call a castle!" Lady Marian said evenly.

"Stay away from her." The Sheriff warned. Then he turned and went on his way.

When he went back into the private chamber, Lady Rhiannon was standing facing the mirror with her back to him. She was smoothing her shiny sable hair. She appeared completely calm. She'd already taken it! If he hadn't bothered to speak to Marian he would've found out where she was hiding it. He immediately chastised himself. She turned around.

"I knew you wouldn't be long. Was it getting boorish for you too?" Lady Rhiannon suggested.

The Sheriff smiled. "Yes. I suppose it was." He said as he walked toward her.

"How much longer do we have to kiss up to him? Must we endure mass every Sunday until we are wed?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"We really should. You know I'd rather do anything but. Still, I think it's necessary." The Sheriff said.

"God. I'd do _**anything**_ to get out of it!" Rhiannon said.

"Never tempt fate, my lady." The Sheriff said.

A little more than twenty four hours later, those words they just spoke would haunt him.


	50. Chapter 50

On Monday morning, Rhiannon found herself to be restless again when she awakened. She slowly slid out of the bed and quietly went to the floor. She sat down there a moment and looked up. He was sound asleep. She leaned forward until she was prone and slithered under the bed like a snake honing in on its prey. She grabbed the flask and came out. When she was sitting against the bed, she looked up over her left shoulder. She couldn't really see him, but all was quiet. She uncapped the flask and began to drink. Then she crept along the floor again and returned the flask to its hiding spot. She sighed. She felt warmed. She felt energized, yet relaxed all at the same time. She got up and went to the table, and chased down the vile potion with some ale, then went and sat on the bed beside the Sheriff. She looked down at him and smiled. He was so handsome lying there. His tousled raven hair glistened in the morning light. His chest was bare, he wasn't wearing a shirt. The smooth skin of his muscled chest beckoned her. She leaned down and breathed into his ear and began to lightly caress his chest. He moaned an inaudible response at first, then realization slowly dawned on him. The corners of his mustache slowly upturned in a satisfying grin.

"My lady." He whispered.

She leaned in and kissed him softly. Her lips barely touched his. He leaned in to taste more of her but she stopped.

"In a little more than a fortnight from now, we will be married." Rhiannon said.

"Yes?" The Sheriff asked, curiously.

"Will you still want me when I am your wife?" Rhiannon smiled coyly.

"I shall always want you, Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered. He pulled her down and began to kiss her hungrily. Then he pushed her onto her back and straddled her.

"You're my dream come true, my handsome dark haired prince." She said. She blinked her eyes a few times and squinted. The light from the window was bothering her. Her eyes looked glassy again and the pupils were large. Considering the light coming in the window, the Sheriff found this to be curious. She was practically purring lying there. Suddenly, he knew. She drank some of the potion before he awoke! He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. Did she even know what she was doing? What about Friday in the dining hall? She completely astonished him then…in a good way. But was that just an act as a result of the drug? He'd never known her to be so brazenly demonstrable before. Would she have done that without the potion? He thought about it. She might behave like that if they were alone, but she'd never behave like that in the company of others. He knew she wouldn't. He sighed. It was the potion. Everything was the potion. It wasn't her speaking to him, or trying to seduce him…it was the damned potion!

"Well, it's sure taking you long enough to respond to my compliment." Rhiannon said. "Where are you, my love? Can't you see your lady yearns for you?" She winked.

God she could be so damn alluring! Why did she have to do this to him? Now he was feeling guilt about his plan to spy on her in Mortianna's lair.

"Hey?" Rhiannon said. "What's wrong with you? You act as if it's you who shall be married this day?"

"Oh, it is nothing, my lady." The Sheriff said.

"I know you have nothing on your agenda this morning, because your cousin's wedding is in a few hours. I won't need to be at Mortianna's for quite awhile yet, and here we are…awake." Lady Rhiannon hinted.

"Yes, my angel." The Sheriff sighed. He wanted to be angry with her for seducing him when she was high on the potion, but her sensual appeal caused his body to respond. As a result, all logic was lost.

"God, you're beautiful." The Sheriff whispered. He wasn't sure if she heard him. He was speaking more to the real her anyway.

"You're quite special yourself, sugar." Rhiannon said.

"Why do you do this? Spoil me like this?" The Sheriff asked.

"Because it's obvious you've been loved by the wrong maidens. You deserve to have it good. I never want your eyes to stray away from me. So I intend to make it _**better**_ every time." Lady Rhiannon said.

"My lady, you don't have to try. You're perfect as you are. Even imperfect, you're perfect to me. I could never love another." The Sheriff said solemnly. For, he was speaking from the heart. No matter how much of a hold that potion had on her, he didn't care. He still loved her. He was going to help her break free from its grasp. He had to!

"You don't know what it does to me when you say such sweet things to me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming? You know, I bet you make me as happy as I make you." Rhiannon said.

"I doubt it." The Sheriff smiled.

"But you do. And that's why I want so much to please you." She said as she opened her gown. He gasped. He bent down and kissed her breasts, then slowly made his way up to her soft, open mouth. She reached down and began to stroke him lightly initially, then gradually increasing the rhythm and the pressure. He exhaled a sigh. Soon they were all over each other, exploring each other's bodies in a frenzy of passion.

Afterward, he lay supine and she was nestled against his chest.

"Mmm…don't fall asleep, my sweet prince." She purred.

He sighed. He began to stroke her hair and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled. He frowned. This was going to be even worse for him later, when he would confront her at Mortianna's. Rhiannon would figure out he planned it all along. Then she would feel used when she remembered what they did just now. Curses! He should never have given in to her! She reached down suddenly and took him in her hand.

"Don't fall asleep on me, sugar." She purred again. "Your lady needs you again."

Damn! Why was she doing this? He'd be lucky if she was speaking to him in a week from today! He wanted to kick himself. Because he gave in to her… again.

Luckily, she fell into a blissful sleep afterward. A little more than an hour later, he was able to make his escape to Mortianna's lair without her noticing.

He was nervous. Today was different. They were going to bait her. And then the Sheriff would have to confront her. But after the beautifully blissful morning they just spent together, he knew that very soon she was going to be angry with him. He shook his head. He had to do this! This was poisonous stuff she was playing around with! His back was against the wall in the hallway again. Mortianna had just rung the bell a few moments ago. Finally, he heard her voice.

"Mortianna?" Rhiannon called out.

"Yes, my child. Come. Your potion is ready." Mortianna said. Rhiannon went to the small table. The usual supplies were already waiting there - all but the cup of ale that Rhiannon always chased the potion down with.

The Sheriff peered around the corner and watched. Mortianna stirred the mixture in the bowl. Then she began the process of pouring a small measure into the vial. She passed it to Rhiannon. Rhiannon wondered why Mortianna didn't ask the usual questions, but she took it and drank from it eagerly just as she had the day before. "It's so bitter!" Rhiannon spat.

"Yes, but that's why it works." Mortianna said. "Oh, wait, I forgot to have the ale waiting for you again." Mortianna added. The witch walked toward the supply area in the direction where the Sheriff stood. He kept his gaze in Rhiannon's direction. Now - for the moment of truth…

Once again he watched as her right hand travelled to her pocket. She kept her eyes on Mortianna as she searched her pocket. Then she extracted it. He still couldn't tell what the object was. She picked up the bowl from the table and began to pour from it into whatever was in her hand. Then she did something to it – he suspected put a cap on it, and went to put it into her pocket. But it clumsily dropped from her hand, sliding down her gown and onto the floor and rolled in his direction. Oddly, it didn't break. Rhiannon was looking toward the floor but couldn't see it. Mortianna started to walk toward her.

"Here you are, my child." Mortianna said. She looked up and was startled to see Lady Rhiannon underneath the table.

"My child? What are you doing down on the floor?" Mortianna asked, suspiciously.

Think, Rhiannon willed herself. Finally, it came to her. "I was playing with my ring and I dropped it." Rhiannon replied without looking up.

The Sheriff took his cue and came out of the shadows slowly. He walked a few steps, then stopped to bend down. There was a small vial on the floor in front of him. He picked it up, and slowly made his way toward her. He stopped when he was a few inches from her. Suddenly, she saw his boots approaching in front of her. She looked up. She let out a gasp.

"Is this what you're looking for, my lady?" The Sheriff asked as he held it out to show her.

"Give me that!" Rhiannon shouted as she stood up. "It's mine!"

"No, my dear. I think you've had enough." The Sheriff remarked.

Suddenly she kicked him. He let out a groan and bent down. As he did so, his palm opened and the vial fell from his hand. She caught it in her hands and backed away. He looked up then straightened. He slowly walked toward her.

"Rhiannon. Give it to me!" He demanded.

"No." Rhiannon said. She began to take the cap off it as she continued to back away. He moved in toward her quickly but he was still too late. She brought it up to her lips and drank all from her vial.

"I hope you enjoyed that, my lady. For, you just tasted your last of the magic potion." The Sheriff said.

"That's what you think." Rhiannon said.

"Oh, I know all about your personal supply. Don't worry, it will be found." The Sheriff said gruffly.

Rhiannon stood staring at him a moment. Then she bolted for the stairs. She was going to hide it the Sheriff realized. He let out a growl and went after her.

She was walking toward the bed in the private chamber when the doors threw open.

"Where are you hiding it?" The Sheriff demanded. "Somewhere in here, but where?" He muttered.

"It's gone." Rhiannon said.

"Don't lie to me, Rhiannon. It won't hurt me, but it will hurt you if you keep taking this wretched poison!" The Sheriff exclaimed. He walked closer until he was inches from her. "Can't you see what it's doing to you?" He asked.

"I like what it does for me, most of the time." Rhiannon said.

"You can't keep going on like this. I'm going to find it. I know you're keeping it somewhere in this room!" He spat. "Now…if I were a bottle of poison, where would I be?" The Sheriff said slowly as he looked around. He walked over to her trunk.

"Don't do this!" Rhiannon shrieked.

He stopped in front of her trunk. "Is it in here, my love? Do you want to come over here and open it, or shall I?" The Sheriff asked with his eyebrow raised. She stared at him but didn't respond.

He threw open the lid of the trunk. He began to rummage through it, pulling out various garments and trinkets and casting them to the floor.

"Stop!" Rhiannon shouted.

He got up and went to the table below the mirror. There were a few items sitting there. He picked them up: a comb, her scarf, a flask of rosewater she liked to splash on her skin after bathing. He muttered curses. It wasn't there! He turned around to face her.

"Where is it, Rhiannon!" The Sheriff demanded.

"Where is…what?" She choked.

"Where is the damned potion! I know you have your own personal supply in here. Don't you dare try to deny it! I could practically tell you the approximate times over the last few days you drank of it!" The Sheriff barked.

"You know nothing of it." Rhiannon said.

"I know more than you know. And I also know that poison could be the death of you if you don't tell me where it is." The Sheriff said sternly.

Rhiannon sighed. "Not today." She said quietly.

He shook his head, incredulous. "What?" He asked.

"Please don't do this to me today, George. Please not today!" Rhiannon said.

"Rhiannon?"

"You know. You've figured it out. Maybe that's a good thing. And if you know, you also know how I get when I need it now. This is Sir Guy and Lady Meridwyn's wedding day. Can't I just get through that first?" Rhiannon pleaded with him.

"So you're admitting you _**do**_ have it then?" The Sheriff asked with his eyebrow raised.

She sighed. "Yes. Just let me get through today, please my Lord." She asked.

"Do you promise to surrender it to me after the wedding feast is over?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes. I will." Rhiannon said.

He sighed. "Alright. But if you don't give it to me, I _**will**_ find it. I promise you. You won't need to be seeing Mortianna on the morrow." He said.

"Yes. I thought so." Rhiannon sighed. "But what about the nightmares, the memory of…him?"

"We'll get through it, my angel." The Sheriff said as he held her to him.

___________________________________________________________________________________

It was nearing midday. It was rather busy today at the castle gates. Adam, Drake, and Luke couldn't believe their luck at all the local dignitaries who were showing up for the wedding of Sir Guy of Gisborne and his lady. For, the cathedral was beside the castle and protected by the main gates.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Drake remarked to Adam. "You're always complaining we never see anyone of importance."

"This is quite remarkable." Adam said. "An entire day of this too!" He grinned, his grey eyes twinkled.

"Yes. And you two will have to suffer them drunk without me – later tonight." Luke grinned.

"And where will you be?" Drake asked curiously.

"I'm supposed to report for duty outside of the Sheriff's chambers." Luke said.

"My, already?" Adam remarked.

"Yes. I will be taking over for Alfred at dusk." Luke said.

Drake sighed and shook his head. Just then they heard a woman's voice. She was clearing her throat. They turned in front of them. Lady Marian was standing there.

"Lady Marian." Drake greeted. She looked up at him. His brown eyes danced and his dark flowing hair gleamed. She sighed.

"I told you I wouldn't miss this wedding for the world." Marian said.

"Do you have your invitation with you? We shall need to see it again." Drake said.

"Why, yes I do." Marian said. She fumbled in her gown pocket careful not to disturb the other item in there. She found it and pulled it out. She passed it to Drake. He unfolded it and glanced at it, then folded it again.

"That's fine, my lady." Drake said as he gave it back to her.

"You must leave your weapons here." Luke spoke up.

"Now, where on earth would I put a weapon." Marian asked. "I have no weapon with me." She said flatly.

"Where is your horse?" Adam asked.

"I secured it over there." Marian said as she pointed in the direction to her right.

The men nodded. Marian scanned their faces. She zeroed in on the one in the center. The tall dark haired knight she found to be attractive. Too bad he was associated with Nottingham!

Drake swallowed as the pretty auburn haired maiden with the dark almond eyes came toward him then placed her index finger on his chest.

"It's going to be a grand day, I just know it." Marian said, grinning.

"Indeed, my lady." Drake said.

"It's always a shame when such happy festivities must come to an end, however. Isn't that right, gentlemen?" She asked when she removed her finger from Drake.

The men regarded her curiously.

"I'll see you later then, when the party is over." Lady Marian said. The portcullis raised and she went inside the gates.

"I don't think the Sheriff would like her, if he's never met her. Just a feeling I have." Luke said as he watched her walk away.

"For once, I think you're onto something." Adam said. "I think he'd want to strangle her!"

"She certainly is a fair maiden, though." Drake said. "Feisty too."

"Don't tell me you're smitten with her?" Adam exclaimed.

"It is rather curious to wonder if she'd be that feisty in the dark?" Drake mused with an evil grin.

"She'd probably stab you given the opportunity." Luke said.

"Indeed, Luke." Adam agreed. He looked to Drake. "Don't forget, mate, we all agreed that she was one for us to watch." He reminded.

"If she'd stop dropping her less than subtle hints, you'd barely even notice her." Luke pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Drake asked.

"Can't you tell she likes you? She's been looking at you funny for a few days now!" Luke said.

"Is that so?" Drake asked smiling.

"Forget it, Drake. She is bad news." Adam said.

"I didn't like the way she was talking a minute ago." Luke added.

"Yes. I must admit I found that rather peculiar too." Drake said.

"You'd never know it, you couldn't stop staring at her when she said it." Adam remarked.

"There was something about what she said about happy festivities coming to an end." Luke wondered aloud.

"Oh, don't give it any thought, mate. She's just daft. I think we all agreed on _**that**_ before." Adam said.

Luke nodded. Still there was something about her and what she said moments ago that gave him a bad feeling in his gut. She was up to something. He could feel it.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

In the north of the country in the county of York the rain was just starting. Duke Farnsworth, Richard, and Nigel were traveling over the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Dales. They had just seen the first of the Sheriff's proclamations that appeared in the north.

"That was a brilliant idea the Sheriff came up with!" Nigel said. "I'm sure that will help us."

"Yes, wasn't it?" Duke Farnsworth said. He smiled. For, it was he who suggested the Sheriff commission a local artist to copy the drawings for distribution in his letter to the Sheriff.

"I hope it works. It will be four weeks tomorrow since our group split up and went in different directions." Richard said.

They were traveling down a large hill, approaching the valley below. As they drew closer they saw an older man with balding silver hair approaching them on a horse. He slowed his horse as he advanced closer to them.

"Excuse me." The man said to them.

"Yes?" Duke Farnsworth spoke.

"You're not from this region, are you?" The old man asked.

"No." Richard chuckled. "We're a _**long**_ way from home."

"You got _**that**_ right, mate." Nigel quipped.

The old man cleared his throat. "Have you lads been sent by Nottingham?" He asked.

"Indeed we have." The Duke replied slowly as he narrowed his blue eyes upon the man. "Why do you ask?"

"I saw the Sheriff of Nottingham's proclamation today. My eyes may be deceiving me in my advanced years, but I could've sworn I saw one of them not long ago in the market." The man said.

The men all stared at him registering looks of various degrees of wide eyed surprise.

"Which one?" The Duke asked.

"The lady. She was unaccompanied but she had a small babe with her. It looked nothing like her. She had shiny golden hair, and the infant had very dark curly hair. They didn't look at all related. That's what got my attention at first. But then I remembered seeing that poster just moments before and it dawned on me!" The man said excitedly. "I'm certain it is her!"

"Finally…" The Duke sighed.

"I'll be buggered!" Nigel exclaimed. He turned to Richard beside him. "Hit me, mate. For, I must be dreaming!" He said.

Richard rolled his eyes. "Maybe not now, but I just might do that later." He grinned.

"Where is the market?" The Duke asked the old man.

"In the center of the village. You can't miss it. It's just down there." The old man pointed down the hill.

The Duke smiled then nodded to his men. They kicked their horses into a gallop and rode down the hill toward the village.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The cathedral was filled with guests. The Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon sat in the front row of the cathedral on the left side. The Bishop stood before Guy and Lady Meridwyn. He was asking if anyone knew of any reason why the couple should not be wed. Rhiannon looked at Meridwyn. She was a vision. She had a wreath of orange blossoms in her hair. The gown had an overlay of ivory lace over the fine silk of the bodice. It had a scoop neckline, sleeves that were fitted and flared in a trumpet style at the wrist. A line of delicate ivory bows travelled down the length of the sleeves along the outer aspect of them. The ivory silk skirt was elegant yet simple. And the bride was simply… stunning. Guy wore a black tunic under a black leather coat, black breeches, shiny black boots, and a long black cloak completed his finery.

Rhiannon smiled. She looked up at her soon to be husband. The Sheriff felt her eyes upon him and turned to his right. He found her eyes and cast her a seductive smile. She looked radiant in the dark blue velvet gown she was wearing. It was hard for him to take his eyes off of her.

Lady Marian sat in the back of the cathedral. The voluminous hood of her cape was up. She hated having to be there but she needed to go through the motions of the ceremony then the tedious celebrations in order to accomplish her task. This will be the day. His guard will be down today. It has to be today. She began to yawn as the ceremony commenced.

The Bishop looked to Guy. "Sir Guy of Gisborne: Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, wilt thou love her, and honour her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others, cleave thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" The Bishop asked.

Guy looked to Lady Meridwyn. "I will." He said with a smile.

The Bishop began the same formality with Lady Meridwyn. Lady Marian began to fidget. This was bothering her more than she thought it would. In fact, she never gave it a moment's thought. But sitting here through a marriage ceremony only made her long for Robin. They would've been married if the Sheriff hadn't killed him. She used to dream of her wedding day. Now those dreams became her nightmares!

"… as a wife should a husband, and forsaking all others, cleave thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live" The Bishop asked Lady Meridwyn.

"I will." She said as she looked up at Guy.

The Sheriff looked down then over at Rhiannon. He suddenly felt nervous. For in two and half week's time, it would be him standing there where his cousin was now. She caught him looking at her and blushed. He smiled. He hoped he would be a good husband to her. He wasn't sure if he would be, but he knew he wanted to. He looked to the front where his cousin and Lady Meridwyn stood. Guy had just finished saying his vows. The Bishop now looked to Meridwyn.

"Repeat these words after me." The Bishop said to her. She nodded.

"I Meridwyn of the House of Borden take thee Sir Guy of the House of Gisborne…" The Bishop directed.

"I Meridwyn of the House of Borden take thee Sir Guy of the House of Gisborne…" Lady Meridwyn said as she looked up at Guy.

The Bishop continued to lead her, and she followed his instruction as she looked to Guy:

"… to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it; And thereto I plight thee my troth." Meridwyn said to her groom.

The Bishop spoke to those gathered in the cathedral. "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder." He looked to Guy and Lady Meridwyn. "By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you: man and wife." The Bishop said.

Guy stepped forward and kissed his bride.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

The men had just arrived in the market in the heart of the small village down in the valley. They walked through aisles and past several vendors looking for the golden haired maiden with the dark haired baby.

"Curses! It took us too long to get here. She could be long gone by now." Nigel huffed.

"Patience, Nigel." The Duke said. "We ask around. She couldn't have gone too far. My guess is she wasn't far from home if her husband didn't accompany her."

"A very good point, Duke." Richard agreed.

Nigel shook his head as they continued walking. They continued for another fifteen minutes and were about to begin questioning some of the merchants when Richard spoke up.

"Look! There – ahead in the distance…is that a woman with a babe in her arms?" Richard exclaimed.

"Where?" The Duke asked hurriedly.

Richard pointed ahead and slightly to the left. "There…about thirty yards away. Do you see her?"

"Come on." The Duke said as he quickened his pace.

She had her back to them when they advanced a few feet behind her. The Duke extended his arm out and tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped and turned around.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. She recognized the tall red haired man with the beard and the kind blue eyes straightway. He was one of Nottingham's guards who came to their door that day!

"My lady." Duke Farnsworth spoke.

Isabelle swallowed and held tightly onto the baby. "What do you want?" She knew the question was futile.

"And you told me you've never been able to bring forth children!" The Duke sneered. "Who's this little one then?" He asked.

"An orphan my husband and I gave a home to." She lied.

"Someone wants a word with you, my lady. But first you shall lead us to your husband!" The Duke said. He looked to Richard.

"Make sure she doesn't get away." He instructed Richard.

"Yes, Duke." Richard said. He grabbed hold of Isabelle and held her tightly by her arm.

"Let go of me!" She shouted.

"Not a chance." Richard said.

"Indeed." The Duke said. "For, that child belongs to the Sheriff of Nottingham!"

They made their way back to their horses. They stopped a moment as the Duke went through his bag and extracted his ink jar, quill, and parchment.

"What are you doing?" Nigel asked.

"Find me a messenger." The Duke said. "I must send word to the Sheriff."

"Can't it wait?" Nigel asked, incredulous.

"Just do it! This way he'll have a day or two's warning by the time we get there. I must inform him his child is found. Now go – and do it fast. By the time I finish my letter we could send it on its way to him!" The Duke commanded.

"Very well." Nigel sighed.

Ten minutes later the Duke was passing a sealed scroll to a young gangly lad with curly red hair and freckles who was willing to make the long arduous journey.

The Duke spoke to him. "This message is of vital importance. You must place this directly in the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. No one else but he. Do I make myself clear?" The Duke asked with his eyebrow raised.

"Yes." The young lad spoke.

"When you get to the castle gates, tell the guards that Duke Farnsworth sent you. They will show you in." He said.

"Very well. What about payment? Do you have it?" The lad asked.

"In this matter, you shall be paid by the Sheriff when you deliver this message to him. That should give you the incentive you need to get this to him in a timely fashion." The Duke said.

"As you wish." The messenger said. He took the scroll and went on his way. The knights went with Lady Isabelle as she led the way to the abandoned home that she and Robert had been hiding out in. She was filled with trepidation. She remembered what Robert had said about being wanted by the Sheriff. She hoped the Sheriff would be forgiving when his child was returned to him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

They were gathered in the grand hall. Nobles and Lords along with their ladies were festooned in their finest attire. Tables were draped with fabrics of rich silk. There were candles everywhere and large vases of orange blossoms and greenery on each table. The afternoon was coming to a close. The feast would begin soon. There were a variety of entertainers there. There were minstrels, jugglers, dancers, and mimes. Lady Rhiannon was beginning to get a headache.

The Sheriff was busy greeting many of the guests along with his cousin. Unbeknownst to him, Rhiannon brought a vial of the potion with her. She was beginning to feel strange again. Her arms were beginning to itch and she was feeling jumpy. Though she didn't know if the entertainment had something to do with it? She left him, she knew he'd barely notice her absence. She found a place outside of the hall where nobody was present. She pulled the vial out from her bodice, uncapped it, and began to drink. She drank until there was nothing left of it, approximately two ounces. She looked around. Then she capped it and placed it in her gown pocket.

The Sheriff was speaking to Meridwyn. He took her hands.

"You look ravishing, my dear." The Sheriff smiled.

"Thank you, my Lord. So does your lady. I saw her gown. She looks beautiful in it!" Lady Meridwyn said.

"Yes she _**does**_, doesn't she?" The Sheriff said as he looked beside him. Then he glanced in the opposite direction.

"Where is Rhiannon?" Lady Meridwyn asked.

"I do not know. She was right beside me a moment ago?" He said. He scanned his line of vision. He didn't see her anywhere. Curses! Did she just sneak off to drink some of that wretched poison?

"She's probably just speaking to some of the guests." Lady Meridwyn reassured. He certainly seemed preoccupied by her absence. She looked over his shoulder. "Oh. There she is now!" Lady Meridwyn said as she pointed behind him. He turned around.

She stood before him smiling, casting her eyes upon him in that signature seductive manner of hers. He felt warmth settle in his loins. He sighed. She walked toward him, nodded at him, then looked toward Meridwyn.

"It was beautiful, Meridwyn! You are beautiful." Lady Rhiannon smiled.

"Thank you, friend. It would be better if I didn't feel so stout, though." Meridwyn said lowering her voice.

The Sheriff looked down and grinned.

"What are you talking about?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"I just feel stout… you know why." Lady Meridwyn said.

"No. I'm sure I don't know why." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff shot his head up. Both the Sheriff and Lady Meridwyn cast strange glances upon Rhiannon.

"Why would you feel stout? Have you been indulging of late?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. Then he sighed. She just took the potion. The cursed potion!

Lady Meridwyn leaned in. "The baby, Rhiannon. I'm with child…remember?"

"Oh." Rhiannon stammered. "Uh…right."

An hour later they were seated with Guy and Lady Meridwyn at the head table. The Sheriff was to the left of Guy, and Rhiannon was seated on the Sheriff's right. The food and the libations never stopped. Rhiannon continued drinking wine, but decided not to eat too much of the food. She was liking how she was feeling. Too much food may lessen the effects of the potion. They had just finished a portion of roast quail and venison served with vegetables. Now the dessert was arriving. A delectable array of tarts, custards, fruit preserves and dates served with spicy mulled wine. A bowl of dates was placed in front of the Sheriff and his lady. She reached out and brought a date to her lips. She began to suck on it before she took a bite from it.

The Sheriff sighed and shook his head. He put his hand on her thigh. She looked up.

"Behave yourself, lady!" He whispered gruffly.

"My, aren't you doubtful?" Rhiannon commented. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?" She asked.

"I'm not sure about that." The Sheriff said. "Not after your spectacular performance in the dining hall on Friday." He said, though he tried not to grin.

A little while later they were sipping on the spicy mulled wine. Guy and the Sheriff were having a brief and casual discussion. He paused and looked over at Rhiannon. She was slowly sipping her wine and looking over at him.

"It's about time you noticed me." Rhiannon murmured.

"My lady?" The Sheriff said.

Guy looked over out of the corner of his eye.

"Tell me, my prince." Rhiannon began. She took slow sips of her wine as she spoke. "Do you think about it…like I do? Do you want it in a glance… like I do?" She said to him slowly and purposefully.

He sighed. He gave her a stern glance. "Control yourself." He whispered.

"I don't want to." Rhiannon whispered. Damn! The itching was starting again! Why now?

"My lady, save it for later. Don't seduce me here." The Sheriff said. Then he looked over at her. She was rubbing her arms and her chest again. He leaned into her.

"Have a sip of the wine, my angel. It will help." The Sheriff whispered.

She smiled. She took the cup and drank from it. She waited for a time to see if it would work. It warmed her, but did nothing to ease the itching and now the nervousness that was starting. She slowly stole away when the Sheriff was engaged in another conversation with Guy.

Lady Marian was near the door of the grand hall. She just happened to be looking up when she saw Rhiannon coming. Here was her cue. She looked around. Nobody would notice. All eyes were on the bride and her groom. She watched Lady Rhiannon exit the hall, then she slowly followed her keeping her hood up and her eyes downcast as much as possible.

The Sheriff turned to his right. Lady Rhiannon wasn't there! He suddenly remembered her scratching herself moments ago. She was going to take the potion! Curses! He looked to Guy and gave his excuses. And then he went toward the private chambers.

They were in the north wing on the second floor, a long way from the grand hall. Marian stood several feet behind hiding behind large columns when she could. Rhiannon was opening a door. Marian guessed the door led into the private chambers. There was a guard standing there right outside of it. Yes. That must be the Sheriff's private chambers! What a great place for a meeting with her, Marian thought. She had to think of a way to get rid of the guard. But how? She slowly walked toward the door. Then she heard footsteps coming. The Sheriff! She should've known! She looked behind her. She couldn't see him but she could hear him coming. She ran behind a column that led into another entranceway. She kept her back to the wall. His footsteps drew closer. She peered out slowly. Soon she saw a dark figure pass by quickly. She knew it was him. Curses! She would have to wait.

Rhiannon was in the private chambers. She got on the floor and scurried under the bed. She had just grabbed the flask when the doors flew open.

"I should've known. Underneath the bed – of course! What was I thinking?" The Sheriff exclaimed as he slapped his right hand to his forehead.

Rhiannon came up from the floor and stood beside the bed. She held the flask and slowly backed away, around the bed, and backed up to the window. He slowly walked toward her.

"On Tuesday, I found you on the floor by the bed when I came to see you after you barged in on my meeting. You showed me your silver and diamond comb. Funny how it just fell out of your head. Remember?" The Sheriff reminded her with his eyebrow raised.

Rhiannon sighed.

"I found you again on Saturday afternoon. On the floor by the bed. This time – oh, what was it now? Oh, yes! You curiously dropped your earring." The Sheriff said.

"Don't." She pleaded.

"But my personal favourite is waking up at dawn yesterday, and seeing you sitting on the floor. You were staring at the floor under the bed." The Sheriff said evenly as he kept advancing toward her.

"I was restless." Rhiannon said as she continued to back away.

"You were a total wreck." The Sheriff said evenly. "You needed it then, but you couldn't risk getting it, because I was there!" He advanced until he was a foot away. Her back was against the wall. She hugged the flask to her.

"Give it to me." The Sheriff commanded.

"No. Not now!" Rhiannon said.

"Yes, my dear. The feast is over. You promised you'd surrender it to me when the wedding feast was over." The Sheriff said. "Or have you forgotten?" He said with his eyebrow raised.

"No. I need it!" Rhiannon shouted.

"You need a lot of things, but you do _**not**_ need this!" The Sheriff said as he moved in swiftly. He grabbed the flask from her and she was powerless to stop him. His strength overpowered her.

"No!" Rhiannon screamed. "No, George…give it to me!" She pleaded. She began to cry. "I need it! I need it!"

The Sheriff couldn't hide the concern from his face. He hated that he had to do this to her. But look at her…there was his lady, the one woman who would constantly swear up and down about not needing anybody. But by god, she needed this cursed potion! He began to slowly shake his head.

"Oh, Rhiannon…" He whispered.

She came toward him. He backed away.

"Give it to me, please!" Rhiannon begged as tears streamed down her face.

He held it up and uncapped it, then he tipped the flask upside down and poured the contents on the floor.

"No!" Rhiannon shrieked. She dived to the floor. "I needed it! It helped me. How could you?" Rhiannon exclaimed. She put a hand out and stuck her fingers in the pool of liquid on the floor. Then she touched her fingers to her lips. The Sheriff shook his head, his jaw agape.

"I'll come back for you later!" The Sheriff said gruffly. Then he turned toward the door.

"George! Where are you going?" Rhiannon called.

"I'm going to speak to my cousin. And then I'm coming back to have a few words with you." He said. Then he left.

Marian heard him coming. She placed her back against the wall. She heard him muttering curses to himself as he walked by the hallway where she stood. She waited a time until he was definitely gone, then came out of hiding. She advanced toward the sentry outside of the Sheriff's chambers. He was tall with black hair and dark eyes. He looked kind. This should be easy, she thought with a smile.

"Hello." Lady Marian said.

"What do you want?" Alfred asked.

"I'm here to see Lady Rhiannon." Lady Marian said.

"That's the first I've heard about it." Alfred said. "If you had permission to enter, the Sheriff or Lady Rhiannon would've told me." He said.

"Well, so much for formalities then." Marian said as she swiftly kicked him. He slumped to the floor. She looked around. There was a small marble sculpture atop a pillar on display nearby. She picked it up with both hands. It was quite heavy. Alfred was stirring on the floor. Marian hit him on the back of his head with it. Alfred was knocked unconscious. Then she went inside the door and bolted it from the inside.

Rhiannon was sitting on the window ledge. She had just finished lapping up all the potion on the floor. She didn't care at the moment. She heard a noise. Her vision was blurry. She looked to the door and tried to focus. It must be the Sheriff returning.

The doors flew open. Rhiannon blinked a few times. That was not the Sheriff! Who was that?

"Lady Rhiannon." A woman's voice spoke.

"Lady Marian?" Rhiannon said. "What the hell are you doing in my chamber?"

"_**Your**_ chamber? Last I checked, this room belonged to the Sheriff. My, aren't you familiar with him?" Marian remarked as she came toward her.

"Get out of this room!" Rhiannon demanded.

"Did I tell you about him? No. That's right, you wouldn't let me!" Marian said as she kept walking toward her.

Rhiannon got up off the window ledge. She began to scream for the guard.

"He won't hear you. He's uh… taking a nap." Marian grinned. She reached in her pocket and slowly pulled out a golden dagger. It was gleaming with brilliant rubies. Three rather large rubies were placed vertically along the handle, with four smaller ones across.

"What are you doing?" Rhiannon asked. Her head began to hurt. Her vision was blurred. She was feeling dizzy. Oh, why now? Didn't the Sheriff say he'd be back soon?

"He tried to marry me, to steal the throne from my cousin. King Richard – in case you didn't know. Then he tried to steal my virtue. And then he stole the best of me. He took my Robin away from me!" Lady Marian shouted. "He is evil. Why won't you see it? You can't see it! I tried to warn you but you wouldn't listen. It didn't have to be this way, Lady Rhiannon. But your blind infatuation with him has just cost you." Marian said.

"What? You're not making sense?" Rhiannon said.

"He had to lose you, one way or the other. You could've chosen life and just listened to me and left him. But you had to be moronically devoted instead. Fool!" Lady Marian hissed.

"You are mad!" Lady Rhiannon exclaimed.

"And you are drunk. Look at you? Swaying like that. I bet you couldn't walk a straight line. No wonder he likes you. No doubt _**you**_ wouldn't put up a fight. Well… you picked a bad time to indulge, my lady!" Lady Marian said.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was just nearing dusk. Luke was walking along the hallway of the second floor. He was reporting for duty outside of the Sheriff's private chambers. As he got close enough to see, he narrowed his eyes. What was on the floor? He ran toward the doorway. It was Alfred laying on the floor!

"Alfred!" Luke called to him. He shook him. "Alfred, wake up!" Alfred was breathing but didn't stir.

He heard a noise coming from inside the private chambers. It was women shouting. He banged on the door. "Lady Rhiannon!" He called.

Rhiannon looked up when she heard the door.

"Lady Rhiannon, it is Luke!" The voice called.

"Luke! Help me! Come quickly, there's an intruder…" She was cut off. Lady Marian inched in closer with the dagger held dangerously close to Lady Rhiannon's face.

Luke tried the door. It would not open. He waited a time and kept his ear near to the door.

"You think you're clever don't you?" Lady Marian said.

Luke strained to listen. He knew that voice!

"Look, we haven't much time. You might as well just resign yourself to this." Lady Marian said.

Luke's eyes widened. Lady Marian! That was Lady Marian in there, he recognized her voice! He ran down the length of the hallway and was just approaching the stairs. Oddly, he ran into Adam.

"Thank heavens!" Adam exclaimed. "Look mate, we could use your help down at the gates. The guests are beginning to leave and it's madness down there! Could you tell Alfred to stay a little longer at his post?" Adam said.

"Listen to me, Adam. Alfred has been hurt. Lady Rhiannon is in trouble! It's Lady Marian! She has her trapped in the Sheriff's private chambers. You must find the Sheriff for me. Hurry!" Luke ordered.

Adam ran back down the stairs and Luke ran back to the door of the private chambers. He started to bang on the door.

"Lady Rhiannon!" He called.

Lady Rhiannon was literally running around the room trying to get away from Lady Marian. Then before she knew it, Marian had her backed in the corner where the table and mirror were.

The Sheriff came running down the hall with Adam. He frowned when he saw Alfred on the floor.

"Move him." The Sheriff directed Adam as he nodded toward Alfred.

"He's not dead, my Lord." Adam said.

"Then find my physician! But in the meantime move him out of the way!" The Sheriff barked.

Adam obeyed and carried out his task.

"What's the story, Luke?" The Sheriff asked.

"Your lady has an intruder, my Lord." Luke said hurriedly.

The Sheriff tried the door. "Do you know who it is?" The Sheriff asked. He looked to the door. He heard the voices.

"I don't know if you know her, sir. I only know her as Lady Marian." Luke said.

The Sheriff sneered and motioned for Luke to step aside. The Sheriff then charged toward the door and kicked it in. The Sheriff and Luke ran through the den toward the door of the private chambers.

Lady Marian started to charge toward Rhiannon with the dagger. Just then the doors flew open to the private chamber. The Sheriff saw the dagger wielded in Marian's hand. He suddenly remembered Mortianna's words: "_Beware of the cross…it gleams of red stones, yet can yield red liquid." _He sighed, and then he remembered something else she said to him: _"The past shall meet the future."_ She was talking about Lady Marian. The dagger he had given her years ago was in her hand. The dagger was in the shape of a cross and was encrusted in rubies. Of course! Lady Marian and Lady Rhiannon – the past shall meet the future!

He ran toward the scene but Luke was faster. He got there as Lady Marian had just extended her dagger out toward Rhiannon. Rhiannon was turned away from her facing slightly right. Luke put his hands on Lady Marian's shoulders and pulled her away. She still held the dagger but kept it down within the folds of her skirts.

Lady Rhiannon stood there stunned. She looked over at her betrothed with her arms folded in front of her. He walked toward her.

Lady Marian was struggling to break free from Luke. He grabbed her wrists. She bit down on his hands then kicked him, he automatically let go in response to the pain.

Lady Marian was running up behind the Sheriff wielding the dagger in her hand. Lady Rhiannon's eyes widened. "Watch out!" She called to the Sheriff. He swiftly turned around. He met Lady Marian's eyes with his and raised his hand up to quickly grab her arm. Her reflexes were perfect, because she never let go of the dagger.

"Put it down, Marian." The Sheriff said to her.

Lady Marian was bewildered. Why didn't he just reach for his sword and kill her right then? The rumours couldn't have been true, had they? She wriggled her arm free, still holding onto the dagger.

"Come on, Marian, give it to me!" The Sheriff said as he came toward her. Lady Marian backed away until she was at the window ledge. He continued toward her.

"You can have it back, when I'm done with it. But you're going to know how I've felt." Lady Marian said.

"What are you talking about?" The Sheriff asked. She really had gone mad! "Give it to me!"

"Oh, you'll know. You don't know it yet, dear Sheriff, but I have won!" Lady Marian said. And then she completely surprised him as she took the dagger and quickly plunged it into her chest.

The Sheriff's eyes widened. He slowly shook his head. She was dead. He looked to Luke.

"Get the body out of here. Then ask the servants to clean this room!" He ordered.

"Yes, my Lord." Luke said.

Rhiannon stood staring at the scene before her with her arms folded tightly in front of her. Chilled by the words Lady Marian spoke. The Sheriff turned and went toward her.

"My Lady." The Sheriff said.

"I'm sorry about before." Lady Rhiannon said.

"Don't think about it." he said as he embraced her. "Come, my angel. I'm getting you out of here for now. You don't need to see this." The Sheriff said.

She reluctantly agreed. She walked slowly with him out of the rooms. He led her down the stairs and took her out into the gardens. They walked a little way then Rhiannon spoke.

"I let you down, my love. Forgive me." Rhiannon said.

"It's alright, my angel. I'm just glad you're not hurt! I should've known that woman had gone mad! I knew she was visiting Nottingham. I should've been more vigilant!" The Sheriff exclaimed.

"Yes." Rhiannon said quietly. Normally she would ask more of what of what he knew about Lady Marian. How long did he know she was in Nottingham? She knew she was a fool to come out here, but she tried to be brave. She began to tremble.

"My lady?" The Sheriff began. "Are you cold, or is it… the potion?"

"That's it… sure." Lady Rhiannon said. She knew exactly why she was trembling, but she was going to be brave.

He stepped toward her and took off his cloak. He placed the heavy brocade cloak over her shoulders.

"You did well in there, fending her off." The Sheriff said.

"Yes. I'm glad that's over." Rhiannon said. She wanted to say so much to him. She looked up at him, the only words that would suffice came from her lips.

"I love you." She suddenly said.

The Sheriff looked at her. She'd just been through a trauma. "I know, my angel. I love you too." He smiled.

They walked a little further, just beyond the garden wall. The Sheriff stopped and looked at her. She was still trembling. It was going to be a long night. There was no potion to settle her. He looked at her curiously, suddenly. She was a few feet away from him. Her arms were still folded across her chest. Was she really that cold? She'd been holding them like that since they stood in the private chambers!

The pain was intolerable now. She felt herself begin to sway. The Sheriff saw it when the colour suddenly drained from her face. His eyes widened. She felt that familiar panic settle inside of her. She was going to lose consciousness. She looked at him in terror.

"George!" She whispered. Then she collapsed to the ground.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff yelled as he ran toward her. He crouched to the ground and picked her up. Her right side was wet and sticky. He brought his hand out to look at it. It was dark but there was no mistaking it. That was blood. Marian had succeeded! He remembered what she said before she killed herself: _"You're going to know how I've felt…You don't know it yet, dear Sheriff, but I have won!" _He let out a long yell into the night as he held the limp body of his lady to him. She was breathing but he had to act fast. He wrapped her in his cloak and picked her up in his arms. Her head fell backward over his arm. He quickly walked with her through the gardens, then into the castle, but to him it was like moving in slow motion. He saw the page soon after entering the castle.

"Quickly!" He said to the page. "Summon my physician and Lady Margaret to my room. Now!" The Sheriff barked.

The page nodded and ran on his way.

The Sheriff was on the second floor walking swiftly with Rhiannon in his arms. The servants were just leaving after finishing the task of cleaning the private chambers.

"You!" He called to one of them.

The woman turned to face him.

"Bring a basin of water and plenty of rags to my chamber. Do it now!" He commanded.

Luke turned when he heard footsteps. His face registered surprise.

"Come with me, Luke." The Sheriff said. Luke opened the door for him. The Sheriff nodded to the door that led down into Mortianna's apothecary. "Through that door and down the stairs, you'll find an old crone named Mortianna. Bring her to me." The Sheriff said as he headed to the private chamber.

"Yes, my Lord." Luke said as he dutifully obeyed.

"Oh, and Luke?" The Sheriff called.

"Yes?" Luke replied.

"Consider yourself graduated to the position of knight." The Sheriff said. "Well done, lad." He added.

"Thank you, my Lord." Luke said. Then he went through the door.

The Sheriff kicked the doors in leading into the chamber. He walked toward the bed and laid Lady Rhiannon upon it. He sat on the bed and held her to him while he applied pressure to her wound. She looked the way she did when he found her in the north in May. Pale, limp, but this time she may be mortally wounded. Only a talented physician, or maybe a miracle would help her now. He felt that panic rise within him – the fear of losing her. She must have known she'd been stabbed, yet she endured for him. His brave lady. It wasn't the potion – she was fighting to stay conscious! He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She was still as limp as a ragdoll. He sighed.

"How many times will I have to ask this?" He said to her. "Live for me, my Lady Nottingham!" The Sheriff pleaded with her. He prayed she could hear him.


	51. Chapter 51

It seemed he'd been waiting an interminable length of time. In fact, it was only moments. He couldn't move. He was struck by how suddenly his world had changed. As he held her in his arms and looked upon her pallid body, a series of images flashed through the Sheriff's mind. The first time he saw her, their first kiss, the time he found her in the north when she was near dying the first time. Every happy, intimate, even unpleasant moment they ever spent together suddenly appeared in his mind. Is this what it all boils down to? He thought. I waited all those years for a love that was real and true, and this is how it all ends?

"No." He said aloud. He looked down at Rhiannon. "Stay with me, damnit!" He shouted. For perhaps the first time in his entire life he felt tears form in his eyes. "Don't you dare leave me, Rhiannon! You have so much to live for. More than you know." The Sheriff said. He started to tremble. He knew in his gut she wasn't listening, but he decided to try anyway.

"Don't make me raise our child without you. I'm not sure I'll be a good enough father on my own. I need you. We need you. Stay with me! Come on, Rhiannon, fight!" He begged her.

She looked ghastly. Her skin was pure white and now cool and clammy. Her lips were losing colour. They went from pink to a pale shade of purple. He was frightened. He wanted to do something but he needed to stay to apply pressure to her wound. He looked up toward the door. Where the hell was everybody?

Luke and Mortianna were the first to appear. "What is it, my Lord?" Mortianna asked as she came into the room.

"She's been knifed!" The Sheriff exclaimed. "What I really need in here is my physician, but there's something you can do for me." The Sheriff said. He nodded for her to come closer. Mortianna eyed him suspiciously but advanced toward him.

"I've sent for Thomas and Lady Margaret. They will be here soon. In the meantime, I need you to hold her wound." The Sheriff said with his eyes downcast. "I fear she's slipping away. I don't want to feel it when her blood runs cold." The Sheriff said solemnly. He looked up at her. "You understand?"

"Yes." Mortianna said. She smiled and motioned for him to give her some space. He stood then went to the other side of the bed. Mortianna sat on the bed and began to carry out her task.

A few moments later Lady Margaret appeared with the page. She ran into the private chambers. She was surprised when she took in the scene before her. The Sheriff came toward her.

"My Lord?" Lady Margaret inquired as she looked to Lady Rhiannon.

"I need your help. I'm waiting for my physician to arrive but she needs attention. My lady was stabbed." The Sheriff said.

Lady Margaret walked slowly toward the bed and placed her bag on a chair nearby. "What was she stabbed with?" Lady Margaret asked.

"A dagger." He replied.

"It is not still inside of her?" Lady Margaret asked, for she could see Mortianna applying pressure.

"No." The Sheriff said.

"Then I need to work quickly." Lady Margaret said.

Just then two servants appeared. One carried a basin of water, the other one carried a basin filled with rags. Lady Margaret turned and questioned the one carrying the water.

"Is that water boiled?" Lady Margaret asked.

"No, Madam." The girl replied.

"I need boiled water!" Lady Margaret exclaimed. "Oh, never mind. Just bring me a clean blanket to lay the lady upon, some torches for light, and some clean towels." Lady Margaret directed. The girl nodded, and both of them went to carry out the task.

Lady Margaret looked to Mortianna. "I need boiled water – a lot of it. You have a cauldron in your apothecary don't you?"

"Why, yes." Mortianna said.

Lady Margaret went to the basin of water the servant had just placed on the table and began to wash her hands. The Sheriff watched her curiously wondering what her plan was. She certainly seemed to know what she was doing. Lady Margaret dried her hands then moved toward the bed. She nodded to Mortianna to discontinue providing pressure.

"I'll take over now. I need you to do something for me." Lady Margaret began. "Bring me a basin of boiled water, and a flask of wine as fast as you can!" The midwife directed.

Mortianna nodded and went back toward her apothecary. Lady Margaret turned her head and called to Luke.

"You!" She called out to him.

He looked up. "Yes?" Luke replied.

"Get me my bag – at once!" She directed. She nodded to the chair where she had set it down. He picked it up and brought it to her.

"The gauze too." She said.

He brought the basin of rags over to her. She picked a couple of them up and began to mop at the blood.

"My Lord!" Lady Margaret said. He turned toward her.

"Yes, Lady Margaret, what is it?"

"I need light – now!"

He grabbed a torch off the wall and brought it over to her.

"There – hold it right above the wound. I need to see what has been cut inside of her." She directed the Sheriff to hold the wound with his free hand for a moment using the clean rags. Lady Margaret tore at Lady Rhiannon's gown so she could get a better look in the area, and to keep the gown away from the site. Then she took over from the Sheriff. She used the gauze rags to mop at the blood. Using them she gently pried the wound edges apart to get a better look inside. Rhiannon began to cry out in a torturous moan.

"My lady?" The Sheriff said as he continued to hold the torch above her.

Her eyes opened briefly. She wasn't looking at anyone. He could see she was in a faraway place. Suddenly she began to speak, though it was very faint.

"My Lord…you must come quick! I'm bleeding…our child!" Rhiannon whispered weakly.

He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. She was finally remembering their child. Or was she?

"Yes, my angel." The Sheriff whispered. "Our child needs you. I need you." He said. It was no use. She was unconscious again.

Lady Margaret took some clean rags to the wound. "I need someone to keep these rags coming, and I need them clean!" She looked to Luke. "Tell the servants to bring me plenty of clean rags. And make sure you emphasize the importance of 'clean'." She instructed.

Luke went on his way, then Mortianna appeared with the basin of boiled water and a flask of wine positioned under her arm held close to her body. Lady Margaret directed her to place them on the table beside the bed.

"Look in my bag." Margaret said to Mortianna. "You'll find a small needle in there and thread. Take them out for me, and get me two clamps as well."

"What are you going to do?" The Sheriff asked.

"The artery of her liver has been severed. I can hold it until the physician arrives with what I have. But she'll need to have the procedure repeated when he comes." She explained.

"What do you mean?" He asked with his eyebrow raised.

"I have the wrong thread. It will hold for a little while but eventually it will be insufficient. She needs catgut." Lady Margaret announced, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Catgut?" The Sheriff asked rather bewildered.

"Thread made from catgut is the recommended suture for repairing internal injuries." Lady Margaret said.

"You're sure?" The Sheriff said suspiciously.

"Yes. Your physician will confirm that when he arrives." Lady Margaret said confidently.

The servant girls reappeared with another torch, more rags, and a clean blanket and towels. They were accompanied by Luke. Lady Margaret directed the Sheriff and Luke to lift Lady Rhiannon onto the clean blanket she placed on the bed. Then Mortianna showed the midwife the items she had requested. Lady Margaret nodded.

"Drop the needle and the clamps in the basin of boiled water for me." She directed. Mortianna did so, then she looked to Lady Margaret.

Lady Margaret nodded to the flask of wine on the bedside table. "Pour the wine upon my hands and over the lady's wound." Lady Margaret said. Both Mortianna and the Sheriff looked at her oddly, but Mortianna obeyed notwithstanding.

Luke brought the basin of rags over toward Lady Margaret. She dropped some bloodied rags to the floor and replaced them with clean ones from the basin that Luke held out to her. The Sheriff suddenly noticed the page still standing there in the corner.

"Where is my physician?" The Sheriff demanded of the page.

"Oh his way, sir." The page said without looking up at him. He was too busy watching what Lady Margaret was doing.

"That doesn't tell me anything!" The Sheriff spat. "No go, you little runt! What do you think this is? Entertainment?"

The page left the chambers hurriedly. The Sheriff turned back to observe the midwife. Lady Margaret took the needle and threaded it while Mortianna applied pressure to the wound. Then Lady Margaret began the task. As she began to sponge more deeply at the blood, Rhiannon began to stir again, though she never opened her eyes.

"Oh…God!" Rhiannon moaned.

The Sheriff was still holding the torch. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He was just beginning to feel sick.

"No!" Rhiannon cried out, her eyes still closed.

"It must be done, my lady." Lady Margaret said. "Just bear with me." She soothed.

Within ten minutes time, Lady Rhiannon was no longer protesting. The pile of bloody rags on the floor was ever increasing.

"More rags!" Lady Margaret called out. Luke brought the supply of them to her.

She grabbed some clean ones, mopped the area and tried again at the sewing. "This is not holding." Lady Margaret said with a frown.

"What?" The Sheriff said.

"The thread is not working." She said.

"But it must!" He said.

"We need Master Crumwell." Lady Margaret sighed. "I can keep applying pressure with the rags for now. But time is of the essence."

The Sheriff nodded and exhaled a sigh. He began to tremble. He decided to attempt to take his mind off the matter. He was curious to know something.

"How is it you know all of this?" The Sheriff asked her.

"I've been studying in my leisure for a couple of years." Lady Margaret replied without looking up.

"You seem to know what you're doing." The Sheriff began. "So you must know this: tell me, Lady Margaret, what is her time frame?" He asked slowly.

Lady Margaret looked up to meet his gaze. She sighed. "At the rate she's bleeding – maybe an hour." Lady Margaret replied gravely.

The Sheriff had that feeling come over him again. The frightening feeling of his heart being slowly torn from his chest.

"No." The Sheriff whispered as he looked down upon Rhiannon's face. He was beginning to feel rage surface.

Lady Margaret grabbed another wad of rags and pushed them firmly down into Rhiannon's abdominal cavity.

"What are you doing? You'll hurt her!" The Sheriff barked.

"It's the best way to control the bleeding, my Lord. And where she is, she's not feeling anything." Lady Margaret answered quietly.

As the Sheriff continued to hold the torch, he shut his eyes and shook his head. Just as he was about to order Luke to find the physician, they suddenly heard the door open into the den and footsteps fast approaching the private chamber. Within moments, Thomas Crumwell appeared at the doorway. The Sheriff passed his torch to Mortianna and got up to greet Thomas.

"My Lord, what has happened?" Thomas asked.

"My lady was knifed by an intruder. A little over an hour ago. She needs your talents." The Sheriff said.

"Very well." The physician said. He walked toward the bedside and placed his bag on the foot of the bed. Then he turned to Lady Margaret.

"What do you think you're doing Lady Margaret? You've barely covered the topic of anatomy in your lessons!" Thomas scorned.

"I've been studying the teachings of Galen, Hippocrates, and Avenzoar for a few years. The lady needed attention and she needed it at once. Alas, you were nowhere to be found." Lady Margaret replied, unfazed by the public display of criticism.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow. The lady certainly possessed a great deal of knowledge. He felt relieved that she had been there for Rhiannon in the interim while they waited on the physician. But listening to their banter was rather surreal.

"Did you remove the blade?" The physician asked Lady Margaret.

"No. It had already been removed." Lady Margaret said.

"By her attacker." The Sheriff added. The physician nodded.

"Give me the report." The physican demanded of the midwife.

"Most of the damage was to the muscle, but the hepatic artery has been severed. I tried to repair it but I only have cotton thread. I don't have my silk with me. But she needs catgut. I'm having difficulty controlling the bleeding." Lady Margaret said. She nodded to the pile of bloody rags on the floor.

The tall silver haired physician nodded, then went through his bag and extracted the items he would need. He dropped them in the basin of boiled water. Then he proceeded to wash his hands. The Sheriff felt sick again.

"Did you disinfect the area?" The physician called back to Lady Margaret as he dried his hands.

"Yes. My hands as well." Lady Margaret replied.

"Good." Thomas said. He walked to the bedside and directed Mortianna to pour the wine over his hands. She obeyed. Thomas looked to the Sheriff.

"Why don't you wait in the den, my Lord? I shall come for you." Thomas said.

"She has to be okay. Help her!" The Sheriff implored him.

"We will, my Lord." Thomas reassured.

The Sheriff nodded and walked quietly to the den. He knew that everything was being done for her, but what were her chances? He walked toward the table and poured himself a libation of the tincture of rapture to calm his nerves. He'd never known anyone to survive a mortal knife wound. He prayed she would be the first. He looked up when the door flew open to the den.

"Cousin? What has happened?" Guy inquired.

"How did you know to come here?" The Sheriff asked.

"I heard the servants talking downstairs." Guy said.

"I wasn't going to tell you. You'd cancel your plans if you knew." The Sheriff said.

"Tell me what?" Guy said as he walked closer to the Sheriff.

"Lady Rhiannon was stabbed by Marian earlier. Thomas and Lady Margaret are trying to help her now." The Sheriff said grimly.

"No!" Guy exclaimed. "How?"

"Marian managed to steal into the private chambers and had Rhiannon trapped in there. She knifed Rhiannon, then the little coward took her own life – in front of me, Luke, and Lady Rhiannon. But first she made sure to tell me that she had already won!" The Sheriff spat.

"My! She always was a feisty one, but that just boggles the mind. I thought she was in London?" Guy said.

"So did I - until yesterday. She's lucky she killed herself, because I wouldn't have been so kind about it!" The Sheriff seethed.

"What's her status?" Guy asked regarding Lady Rhiannon.

"It is grave, cousin." The Sheriff said. He went and sat down. He was feeling rather oddly just then. He'd barely touched the brandy, but he was lightheaded with the realization of the grave condition his lady was in. This couldn't be happening! Of all people to end it all for him – Lady Marian! He shook his head and put his hand to his forehead.

"You should go, Guy. Lady Meridwyn will be wondering about you." The Sheriff said as he looked to the floor.

"I will go to her, but we are not leaving." Guy said.

"There's nothing you can do." The Sheriff pointed out.

"No. I'm not leaving you now." Guy said adamantly. "I'm going to speak with my lady, but then I shall return." He added.

"Trust me, you don't want to be around me when they tell me the bad news." The Sheriff warned him.

"You mustn't lose hope, cousin. She is strong." Guy said. Then he turned and left.

The Sheriff took a sip of the brandy then got up and began to pace. He knew he probably deserved this, but he silently begged whatever higher power was bothering to listen to him to spare the life of his bride. If not for him, for the sake of his child. He looked skyward.

"Damn you! Don't do to my child what you did to me! What you also did to my lady!" He said. He knew it was a waste of energy, but he felt slightly better for saying it.

Half an hour later, Thomas emerged from the private chamber. The Sheriff turned and went toward him.

"What news, Thomas?" The Sheriff asked nervously.

"The procedure went smoothly. We fixed the problem. However, your lady has lost a lot of blood." Thomas said.

"What does that mean? She will recover now won't she?" The Sheriff asked.

"She is alive but her condition is still grave." Thomas said.

"When will we know if she will improve?" The Sheriff asked.

"The next twenty four hours are crucial. If she gets through that, her chances will greatly improve." Thomas replied.

The Sheriff nodded. Just then Guy appeared at the doorway. Thomas went to speak to him while the Sheriff went back into the private chamber. He stood at the door with his arms folded a moment before he continued. She was still very pale and her breathing was shallow. Mortianna was taking the instruments away, and Lady Margaret was dressing the wound. She looked up.

"You may enter." Lady Margaret said.

The Sheriff looked at her strangely but knew she probably had good reason for saying what she just did. Though he couldn't think of what that would be. He was too concerned for his lady to correct Lady Margaret that the room, in fact – the castle, was his to enter into! He walked close to the bedside. Lady Margaret finished dressing the wound. Then she stood up and faced him.

"Is she awake?" The Sheriff asked.

"No, my Lord." Lady Margaret replied.

"When will she wake?" He asked.

"That – I cannot answer. It's uncertain how long she'll be like this. Alas, the blood loss was great." She said.

The Sheriff sighed.

"I will give you a few minutes with her but I will return. She needs to be watched overnight, and you need your sleep." Lady Margaret said.

"I shall not sleep." The Sheriff said.

"I know – but I need to observe her." Lady Margaret said.

"Very well." He relented. Lady Margaret took her leave.

The Sheriff sat on the bed beside Lady Rhiannon. He gently lifted her and held her to him. Except for the fact she was breathing, there was no response from her.

"My lady. Oh, my beautiful lady. Fight, damnit! Come on, Rhiannon. I am here!" He begged her.

Nothing.

The Sheriff shook his head. "You will _**not**_ leave me. Do you hear me? Listen to me, damn you!" The Sheriff demanded.

This was futile! Though he hoped somehow she would hear him. He suddenly remembered how chilled he was when she told him about hearing Mortianna and Lady Margaret talking when she last fell ill about a month ago. She was in a deep sleep, or so it appeared, yet she heard the ladies discussing her condition!

"I know you can hear me, my lady. So hear this: fight! Don't just do it for me. Do it for your child. We have a child, my lady. I need you! Listen to me – do _**not**_ leave me!" He begged of her.

Just then Lady Margaret came back into the room. The Sheriff looked up and nodded, then went into the den. He walked over to Guy and Thomas.

"Where will you be if I need you?" The Sheriff asked Thomas.

"Right here, my Lord. Lady Margaret and I will be taking shifts to observe your lady overnight. Lady Margaret cannot be expected to stay awake the whole night, and your lady's condition demands we stay alert. I shall be taking over for her when the moon rises." Thomas said.

"Good." The Sheriff said. "I'm pleased to know my lady is being well attended to. Luke, my sentry just outside the door will show you to one of the guest quarters." He added.

The physician nodded and left the chambers. The Sheriff looked to Guy after he left.

"I feel rather sick, cousin." The Sheriff said. He went to sit down on the small sofa.

"I know, my Lord." Guy said.

"How could you know?" The Sheriff asked.

"Because I feel a little ill myself." Guy said. "I never did like that conniving red haired maiden, but I never thought she'd be capable of this!" Guy exclaimed.

"Nice way for her to leave her mark, isn't it?" The Sheriff said sarcastically. "I'd like to kill that little wretch all over again!" He huffed. He sighed then cleared his throat.

"Does Meridwyn know about this?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, my Lord. She wanted to come but I told her to stay away. I told her Lady Rhiannon needed complete quiet." Guy replied.

"I see." The Sheriff said. "Good thinking, for I'm sure it will help. Lady Margaret even dismissed me from the chamber."

"Indeed." Guy said. He went over and sat beside the Sheriff.

"What are you doing?" The Sheriff asked, curiously.

"I'm not leaving you now, my Lord?" Guy said.

"But it is your wedding night?" The Sheriff pointed out.

"And you are my family." Guy said. "My lady understands."

The Sheriff slowly shook his head as he looked at Guy rather stunned.

"Have I ever told you I'm glad you're my family?" The Sheriff said.

"Well…now that you mention it…" Guy began. He was cut off.

"Never mind." The Sheriff said. "Just consider that I finally said it."

"Right." Guy replied with a smile.

"Do you think my marriage to Rhiannon is somehow not meant to be?" The Sheriff wondered.

"Why would you say that?" Guy asked.

"Things keep happening that threaten her life." The Sheriff replied. "It's enough to drive one to madness!"

"No, my Lord. I think it's only coincidence. You and Lady Rhiannon are definitely meant to be husband and wife." Guy said.

An hour or so later when Guy was dozing, the Sheriff went back into the private chamber. Lady Margaret was sitting in a chair near the bedside. He nodded to her and sat on the bed. He leaned down and kissed Rhiannon's forehead.

"I am here, my angel. I'll be waiting when you wake up." He whispered into her ear.

Then he went and sat on a chair near the window. He was staring at his lady thinking how disturbing it was to see Rhiannon lying so quiet and motionless. That was the last thing he thought of before he nodded off.

He awoke with a start just before dawn when he realized how long he had slept. His eyes flew open. Thomas was standing at the bedside checking Rhiannon's forehead.

"Thomas? What news?" The Sheriff asked as he stood and walked toward him.

"She survived the night, my Lord. That is a good sign. She seems to be the same." The physician replied.

"Well, is that good then – that she is the same?" The Sheriff asked.

"It's good she hasn't deteriorated, but I would like to see some improvement. I need to get her to drink. I've asked Lady Margaret to bring some wine spiced with cloves. It works to restore the body after the bloodletting procedure. I've never tried it in a case like this however, so I can't promise it will work." Thomas said.

"Do it. Whatever you can think of that will help her." The Sheriff ordered.

"I thought you would say that." Thomas replied.

Within half an hour Lady Margaret returned to the chamber with a flask of wine mulled with cloves. She put it on the bedside table. The Sheriff observed the physician pour a small amount in a goblet. He gently pulled Lady Rhiannon up and held the goblet to her lips.

"Drink, Lady Rhiannon." Thomas said.

There was no response. The physician made a second attempt but it yielded the same response. The Sheriff shook his head, his eyes downcast. Curses!

"We will keep trying, my Lord." Thomas said.

By dusk, she finally had begun to taste the medicinal wine. She hadn't taken much, but it was a start. Shortly after dusk while the Sheriff was sitting on the bed with her, Lady Margaret was there to keep watch over Lady Rhiannon. The Sheriff requested a brief time alone with her. Lady Margaret sighed but finally relented, reminding the Sheriff she would return shortly. He stretched out on the bed beside her propped up by several pillows and held her to him.

"My love, wake up." The Sheriff said. "You must not leave me. I am nothing without you, I know that now!" He pleaded with her. He began to rub her arms - maybe that would help to wake her. She was so pale.

"Rhiannon!" The Sheriff exclaimed as he gently tapped her cheeks. "You must live for me, my Lady Nottingham! Listen to me, damnit! Open your eyes!" He implored her.

_There was a light surrounding her and she was floating. Then she stopped. Curious, she looked down. She was startled at the scene she saw. It was her lying on the bed, her lover was holding her and pleading for her to live for him. She smiled and sighed. I will always love you, my sweet prince. And then her journey continued._

_She didn't know how she got there. She suddenly just seemed to magically appear. She was in her old home she left behind in the north. She was standing at the doorway walking into their manor. Edward was sitting at the table in the room writing something. There was an aura of light about him. His hair was the same colour as Rhiannon's but his was curly. His skin glowed golden in the light._

"_Eddie?" Rhiannon whispered._

_He paused and turned to his right. He smiled when he saw her. His blue eyes twinkled. He stood and came toward her. Edward was tall like Robert, but he was broad and muscled._

"_Why are we here?" Rhiannon asked._

"_You know why, dear sister. This is your vision of heaven." Edward said._

"_Where is father and Robert then?" Rhiannon said as she looked around. She began to move to the back of the room toward the hallway but her feet became leaden and the more steps she took, the longer the room became - like a cruel trick of fate. She turned to face Edward._

"_What is happening? The light is fading around me!" Rhiannon exclaimed in fear._

"_You are not ready. There is still much for you to do." Edward said._

"_No!" Rhiannon said. "I've had a full life. I am ready." In her soul she knew she was lying. But she had missed her brother dearly and didn't want to leave him._

_Edward came toward her. "My dear sister, you have made me proud." He said. Suddenly she noticed that when he spoke his lips did not move. He only smiled at her while he communicated this to her. Was he doing that before? She couldn't remember. Strangely, she was not frightened by it._

"_There is still much you have left to do, Rhiannon. You are going to be a wife, then you shall be a mother. You have other great things in store for you as well." Edward said. "Do not worry about me. I am happy. It is a beautiful plane I exist on. I shall be waiting, but now you must go." He began to fade._

"_No! Eddie!" Rhiannon cried. "Don't go! Don't leave me, I am ready!" Next thing she knew she was floating above the bed again looking down upon herself. Her lover was still holding her and talking to her. She was struck by the grief registered in his face. She was torn. She wanted to stay with the Sheriff, and she wanted to follow her brother. Edward's face appeared again as she floated above her own body._

"_Right now, your place is down there." Edward said pointing to the bed below them. "Your place is with him, for, he shall be your husband. I will always be with you, my sister. I never left you…" His voice echoed as he began to fade again._

"Eddie! No! Come back to me! Don't leave me…Eddie!" Rhiannon began to cry out softly. The Sheriff was startled.

"Rhiannon! Yes, my angel!" He exclaimed as he held her out to look upon her face.

"Eddie…" She murmured.

He looked upon her curiously. "My lady, it is I, George. Open your eyes!" He commanded.

Her eyes slowly opened. She blinked lazily a few times. Her vision was blurred and it was difficult to focus. Finally she was able to determine her lover's features, though he still was not clear to her.

"George." She whispered. She tried to sit up when a seering sharp pain coursed through her side. "Oh…God!" She cried out. "Damn the gods!" She cursed.

"Rhiannon! Lie back, my angel, you must rest." The Sheriff stated firmly.

"Now I know I'm not dead." Rhiannon blurted after she eased back down to the pillows. "Because there's too bloody much pain for me to be dead! Curses! Did someone brand me with a hot iron?" She muttered weakly.

"No, my love. You were knifed by Lady Marian. Do you remember?" The Sheriff asked. Though he tried not to chuckle. There was the Rhiannon he knew so well!

"No. I remember arguing with her, then you were there. But that is all." She said as her eyes began to close sleepily.

"Lady Margaret and my physician, Thomas saved you." He said.

Rhiannon took a breath, the pain was intense. She was feeling so weakened.

"I'm sure you had something to do with it too." She smiled.

"It doesn't matter. The important thing is you came back to me. You truly gave me a scare." The Sheriff sighed. He cleared his throat. "Rhiannon, when you awakened you were calling out to someone. Tell me, my lady: who is Eddie?" The Sheriff asked.

Her eyes flew open. "I was calling for…Eddie?" She choked out the words.

"Yes. You were telling him to come back to you." The Sheriff said as he gazed into her eyes. "Who is he?" He asked.

Rhiannon sighed. "Eddie is my dead brother. He died before Robert, during battle in the Holy Land." Rhiannon said solemnly.

The Sheriff felt a chill travel up and down his spine. He suddenly recalled her relaying the story about her brothers on the day they first met. But that was the last time she spoke of them, almost a year now. He shuddered. If she was calling to her deceased brother, did that mean she was that close to death a moment ago? He shook his head. He looked down upon her. She was already asleep.


	52. Chapter 52

On Wednesday morning the Sheriff was alone in the private chamber with his lady. He had dismissed Lady Margaret a few hours prior, insisting he'd send for her if need be and that he would take over observation of Lady Rhiannon. She relented finally. He was relieved. He wanted to be alone with Rhiannon when she wakened. He looked down upon her. She was slowly beginning to stir.

"My angel." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon opened her eyes. She found his eyes with hers and smiled.

"My lady, do you know where you are?" The Sheriff asked.

"Of course I do, silly!" Rhiannon replied. "I'm right where I belong. I'm in your bed with you." She said.

The Sheriff sighed. If she wasn't in such a fragile state he'd take her right now. Even in the state she was in she could still find things to say to engage his senses. She was truly remarkable. He smiled at her. She started to reach up with her right hand to touch his face but paused halfway, she grimaced.

"Ahh! Damn!" Rhiannon exclaimed, her jaw clenched.

"My lady?"

"How can I possibly hurt there, just by raising my arm? Are you sure I wasn't tortured?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, I am sure. But you did need to be put back together. I will speak to Thomas about what we can do for the pain." The Sheriff said.

"I don't even know how I'll be able to get out of this bed. The pain….it's unbearable." She sighed.

"Well you're not going to be going anywhere for awhile, my lady. I almost lost you! You need rest. You have no idea what you've been through." He explained.

"That may be, but I'm not staying down too long. We have a wedding to plan, my sweet prince." Rhiannon smiled.

The Sheriff looked down at her and smiled. He began to caress her cheek. He leaned down closer to her. "I was afraid I had lost you, my lady." The Sheriff said quietly.

"You shall never lose me." Rhiannon replied.

"That is good to know. Just tell me, my love, whatever I can do for you. Your wish is my command." He said.

"Good. Then kiss me." Rhiannon said.

"My lady?"

Rhiannon sighed. "I've been waiting for you to do that ever since last night when we talked then. My, you must have had a fright, my prince. For you forgot the most important thing… to kiss your girl." She smiled slyly.

"Trust me, my beautiful lady – I never forgot." The Sheriff said as he slowly moved in and touched her lips softly to hers. He kissed her softly and longingly. Without thinking, Rhiannon tried to raise herself up and lean into him. She cried out. The Sheriff stopped and looked at her with concern.

"Oh God. Curses!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"My lady, it's okay. Just rest." The Sheriff soothed.

"Am I dying?" Rhiannon asked.

"What? No! Of course not, my angel. You are awakened now. I'm no physician, but you seem to be improving to me." He said.

"The pain is indescribable. Like nothing I've ever felt. Will it ever go away?" A beat. "Our wedding!"

"The wedding will take place when you are fully recovered. That's all that matters to me, my love – your recovery. And if you happen to be better for the date we have it scheduled for, that will be splendid. But if we have to postpone it, then that is what we must do." The Sheriff said. "Don't think on that now, my angel. It is of no consequence at the moment."

"Marrying you is everything to me." Rhiannon said.

"It is everything to me too, my lady. But it will mean nothing to me if you're not there. You will listen to the advice given you this time." The Sheriff said more sternly to enunciate his point.

"Very well." Rhiannon said. She reached over to grab one of the pillows with her right hand.

"Oh! Damn the Gods!" Rhiannon cried out. "Am I to lie still just so I won't feel it? This is ludicrous!" She lamented.

"Just rest awhile, my lady." The Sheriff said.

"How can I rest? I cannot move! Oh, this is madness!" Lady Rhiannon cried.

"It's okay, my angel. Don't worry. I'll speak to Lady Margaret, she shall be returning soon. Perhaps she'll have some advice before Thomas arrives."

"Oh, splendid." Rhiannon commented rolling her eyes. She sighed. The pain was exhausting, but it was gone just now. She closed her eyes.

"George." She whispered.

"Yes?"

"Do not leave me. I'll feel better if you stay with me. But it might be hard for me to stay awake." She said.

"No, my love, I'm not leaving you. I shall be right here." The Sheriff said as he stroked her silky hair.

"I can get through anything as long as you're with me." Rhiannon smiled.

The Sheriff bent down to her and kissed her cheek. "Sleep, my angel." He said.

An hour later Lady Margaret returned accompanied by Thomas to check on Lady Rhiannon's progress.

"She wakened again. She was in a lot of pain." The Sheriff said as he arose from where he was seated on the bed and went to them.

"When did she fall asleep?" Thomas asked.

"An hour ago." The Sheriff said.

Thomas went to the bedside. He put his bag on the table beside it. He bent down and touched her forehead.

"Lady Rhiannon?" Thomas said.

The lady opened her eyes and looked up into the silver haired man's grey eyes. "Oh, I remember you." She whispered.

"Forgive me, Lady Rhiannon, but I need to inspect the wound." Thomas said.

She sighed. "Very well. Where is my betrothed?"

The Sheriff walked closer to the bed so she could see him. "It's okay, my lady. I am here." He said.

She looked over at him and smiled. Then she looked again to the physician. "You may look at it, but only if he can stay nearby." Rhiannon nodded to her soon to be husband.

"Very well." The physician agreed. He lifted the dressing carefully and inspected the wound. Rhiannon cried out. Thomas was satisfied with the condition of it and asked Lady Margaret to redress the wound. The Sheriff came closer to the bed, concerned about the pain Rhiannon was in. She reached out with her right arm to take his hand.

"Oh….God!" Rhiannon exclaimed as she squeezed her eyes shut and appeared to be holding her breath a moment.

"What can you do about her pain? There must be something!" The Sheriff said to Thomas.

"I will issue an opium mixture for her." Thomas said. "I have some in my bag."

"What about hemlock juice?" Lady Margaret suggested.

"I prefer to give the opium. I wouldn't risk giving her hemlock with the amount of blood she lost. It could prove fatal." Thomas replied.

He turned and grabbed his bag from the bedside table. He extracted a small flask and handed it to the Sheriff. "This is the opium. It is mixed in a liquid. It should last until tomorrow when I shall bring more. Give her a small measure every four hours. No more than two sips." Thomas instructed.

The Sheriff took it from him.

"How about starting now?" Rhiannon spoke up.

The Sheriff looked to Thomas. Thomas nodded. The Sheriff opened it and took it to Rhiannon. She slowly arose from the bed. She grimaced when she did so and stifled a moan in reaction to the pain. He held the flask to her lips and she took a few sips.

"That is enough." Thomas cautioned.

The physician and the midwife took their leave ten minutes later.

The Sheriff was once again seated on the bed now beside his lady. He leaned down to her. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

"Do you feel a little better, my lady?" The Sheriff inquired.

Rhiannon reached her right arm up to him and gently caressed his face, then ran her fingers through his wavy black hair. She kept her eyes upon his and slowly raised herself up to meet him. It was painful but bearable. She squeezed her eyes shut when the pain reached it's peak, then she opened them and gazed into his amber hazel eyes.

"I've been waiting to do that for a long time. There – I did it. Yes, my love, I am better." Rhiannon smiled.

His mustache slowly upturned as he began to grin seductively. He cast her a brief smoldering glance, burning his eyes into hers then leaned in closer and gave her a languid and gentle kiss.

"My beautiful lady…" The Sheriff whispered.

"Not so beautiful anymore." Rhiannon sighed.

"Rhiannon?" The Sheriff stopped and looked at her curiously.

"Well, I am damaged, and now I am scarred. Not such a prize for a man of your position." Rhiannon frowned.

"Rhiannon, what are you talking about?" The Sheriff asked.

"Well, I was violated, and now I am scarred. I am not so appealing anymore am I?" She looked away.

The Sheriff sighed. He put his fingertips to her chin and lifted it to meet his gaze. "Rhiannon, you are mistaken. In my eyes, no one will ever match your beauty." He said.

"I hope so." Rhiannon said. "I feel like the crow sitting next to the dove."

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "What?"

"You are the dove." She said.

"My lady, I think the opium is working." The Sheriff chuckled. "I've been called a lot of things in my time, but nobody has ever compared me to a dove. A raven maybe, but not a dove." He grinned.

Rhiannon kissed him again briefly, then reclined back to the pillows. "You must forgive me, my lord – I am feeling rather…liberated at the moment." Rhiannon began.

"Yes?" The Sheriff said.

"So what I'm going to tell you, I wouldn't normally say." She said.

"Alright."

"To me, you are like a dove. Before we ever spoke, when I saw you, I felt things I never felt before. You see, you almost existed in my dreams long before I met you. I never really saw his face, but everything else about him – is you. So when I saw you for the first time, you were like the man who was made real for me. The prince who always rescued me in my dreams." Rhiannon confided, blushing slightly.

The Sheriff looked down at her quietly, rather stunned.

"I knew it. You think I am mad." Rhiannon said. "I am not mad, it is only the opium. Or maybe it isn't?" She stammered. "Oh – just forget it." She said.

"No, my lady. It's not that at all." The Sheriff said.

"What is it?" Rhiannon asked.

"Well, I'm pleased to hear such a compliment. It is a first - trust me. But it's more than that. Because you are like that to me." The Sheriff said.

"I am? How?"

"The woman I always dreamed might be out there for me, but I thought it would never happen. The woman I dreamed of didn't look a certain way. It was more about her character. Would she be loving? Giving? Clever? Loyal? Just basics. I never met a maiden who possessed all of those traits, and you have that and more. That is what I mean. And now I know." He said.

"Now you know what?" Rhiannon asked as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"That we are really meant to be. It's as if we somehow willed each other to find one another with all of our dreaming." He said as he looked down upon her.

"All of those years that we dreamed…" Rhiannon mused.

"Well, don't stop dreaming, my lady." The Sheriff said. "For this is only the beginning." He smiled.

"I don't know if I can handle it." Lady Rhiannon said. "It's already good."

"You can handle it." The Sheriff smiled. "Are you jesting? You're the strongest maiden I know." He paused. "I like that you can keep up with me. Nobody ever could." He smiled.

"Well that may be, my love. But right now, if you want me there, you better take two steps back for me. Because at this moment, I cannot keep up." She sighed.

He reached out to her and smoothed her hair then softly caressed her face. "I shall always be willing to wait for you." He whispered.

"Oh, my prince, come here beside me." Rhiannon sighed as her eyes began to close. "I wanted to be next to you a long time ago but they wouldn't leave us alone!" Rhiannon huffed.

The Sheriff smiled and stretched out on the bed beside her. He held her close to him. She nestled into his chest. "It was necessary, my love. Now…is that better?" He asked.

"Yes, my love. Just hold me." She said.

"I will."

"And George?"

"Yes?" He asked.

"Just keep talking to me. I don't even care about the topic. I could listen to you for…well, the rest of my life." She sighed.

The Sheriff grinned. "My, now I know why it's so difficult to obtain opium. Aren't you full of compliments?"

"It is the truth. It is not the opium." Rhiannon said. For she had always loved the sound of his voice. His perfect baritone voice. It was slow and smooth and it had a way of grabbing attention. The way it wrapped itself around his words, even if he drew out a phrase. He knew exactly when to enunciate to get a point across. The sound was like melted chocolate – smooth, sweet, and seductive.

"Alright then, Rhiannon. What do you want to hear about?" The Sheriff said.

"Your surprises for me. I'm sure you've thought of something." Rhiannon said.

"Surprises?" The Sheriff asked.

"Our wedding is fast approaching. I'm sure if you…tell me, I won't remember it." Rhiannon said sleepily. Her eyelids grew heavy. She yawned and closed them.

The Sheriff looked down upon her and smiled. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, my love." He whispered gently as he stroked her hair while he gazed upon her.

She murmured as she drifted off, finally rid of some of the pain. She was exhausted from coping with it. The Sheriff watched as she began to fall asleep. He wondered if she had any memory of what he told her. On Tuesday he spoke of their child being the one who was taken. As far as he could see, that was the biggest surprise in store for her. He had so much he wished to say to her, but it would have to wait. He sighed. He hated waiting. His patience had been constantly tried in the last year. He wondered why he was being tested? It was then he had a shadow of doubt about being a father. Would he have enough patience to be good enough? He shook his head and sighed. One step at a time or I shall surely go mad, he thought.

He still felt uneasy. Rhiannon was still very pale and weakened. Was the worst of it over? He worried that her condition could still worsen, even though she'd already awakened. He would speak to Thomas about it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Robert Wordsworth couldn't believe his luck. When Isabelle and the baby returned to their cabin on Monday he was not expecting Nottingham's Black Knights to be accompanying her. He had just laid his sword down on the table moments before. Not that it would've mattered. Curses! It would all be over soon.

They were traveling toward Nottingham, over the rolling hills in the north. Robert and Isabelle were bound and inside of a wagon pulled behind one of the horses. The child was carried by one of Nottingham's Black Knights – the leader of the group. The tall, red haired man carried the infant in a sling he had made out of a blanket in front of him. No matter what Robert did he'd never see his child again. Whether he attempted to escape, which would probably be best for Isabelle, or if he resigned himself to his fate by Nottingham's hand – he was a dead man. Unless… Robert couldn't help but wonder – just how much of that time did the Sheriff remember? Robert was one of the low profile members of Robin's rabble. Would the Sheriff even recognize him, or know his name?

Robert shook his head. Who was he fooling? The Sheriff of Nottingham was a lot of things, but obtuse, he was not. The man was as sharp as an arrowhead. He would know. Robert sighed as he looked to Isabelle. She was bound as well, but she had managed to fall asleep. What kind of danger have I placed you in, my loving wife? He thought. The biggest mistake he ever made was falling for her. Her life would be in danger now because of it.

He would surely be executed. There may be a chance Isabelle would be spared, but he knew what his punishment would be. And then the heralds would proclaim the news throughout the realm. And his sister would know about the terrible lie. One which she may not forgive him for. If only he could be granted a moment with her. It was the only amends he needed to make that would grant him peace.

He had heard the Sheriff had changed his ways. But he doubted the Sheriff would grant him this request. He looked again at Isabelle. Despite being bound and in very unfortunate circumstances she was still sleeping serenely. He didn't deserve such a lady as she. For after all he had told her, of the number of omissions of himself he neglected to share with her, she was alright with it. When she found out the truth, she was angry and disappointed, but she forgave him. Somehow, she understood why he did what he did. She never once questioned him again about it since that night he revealed his true identity to her.

There was still time before he arrived in Nottingham, met with the Sheriff, was thrown in the dungeon, and the trial (if there would be one granted), would resume. So he would have plenty of time to at least try to forgive himself for the most hurtful lie he could ever tell his sister. He didn't know where she was. Was she still living in the county of York? Knowing her, she probably moved on looking for a change of scenery. If it were him, he realized he would leave. At the time, nothing would've kept him there. He truly hoped that she did leave their old home, traveled, settled somewhere, and most of all, met with a chivalrous nobleman who would love her and protect her since he had abandoned her.

Ever since his capture by Nottingham's Knights he kept asking himself: why didn't I relinquish the child when I found out the father was the Sheriff of Nottingham? He could never answer it. Even though the infant had been placed on his doorstep, he couldn't describe the innate need to protect and love the child. Yet he knew that he would not be in the circumstance he was in now if he had handed them the child then. But if he had, would he have one day told his sister the truth? As far as he knew, he was in custody because of the child. There was no mention of his involvement with Locksley. There may have been a chance he would have contacted her, one day. Now he would never know what may have happened.

He couldn't rest, even if he wanted to. He was not worried about his confrontation with the Sheriff, or the torture - which he knew would be inflicted upon him in the dungeon. What haunted him was picturing the look of disbelief and utter betrayal on his sister's face when she found out he concocted an entire scheme to make her believe he was dead, and completely abandoned her. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Oh my dear sister, what have I done? He sighed. He would not be afforded an opportunity to speak to her. So he had better attempt to make peace with it.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the days following Rhiannon began to gradually show improvement, and it was business as usual for the Sheriff. Guy and his lady commenced their holiday three days later than planned. They weren't going to proceed with their plans at all, but the Sheriff assured Guy that Rhiannon had shown improvement and was receiving the best of care.

Late on Sunday afternoon, Lady Meridwyn awoke from a nap. She remembered penning a letter to her mother in France before she fell asleep. She arose from the bed and went to splash water on her face. She smoothed her hair and her skirts and went looking for her husband. She crept through the long hallway and looked into every room, then descended the stairs and continued in her search.

"Guy?" She called.

She looked everywhere. He wasn't inside the manor. It was chill outside. She reached up and removed her cape from the hook on the wall near the door. She opened it and a chill autumn breeze assaulted her as she walked toward the empty barn fifty yards north of the manor. She wasn't sure with the wind in her ears but she thought she could hear a rhythmic tapping noise coming from the barn. She could see light from inside the barn streaking through the outline of the door. She opened it and went inside. About fifteen feet ahead, Guy was crouched near the floor, working on something. She stepped closer.

"Guy?" Meridwyn called out to him.

His head shot up and he turned around. When he saw her he stood. "My lady…" Guy said.

"What are you – " Meridwyn began to say but stopped mid sentence as she walked closer and saw it. She caught her breath.

"Oh, Guy…" She whispered, her hand to her bosom. He had been making a cradle for their baby. She turned around to face him. She looked up at him and smiled, her blue eyes glistened.

"Oh, yes, my love." Guy said. "You, uh…know your surprise." Guy stammered. It's true he was going to give it to Meridwyn eventually. But in truth, he was labouring on it as a gesture for his cousin. For he had promised the Sheriff he would do his best to ready the manor for the child's arrival in case the child returned to Nottingham with the Duke before the Sheriff's wedding.

"You're amazing." Meridwyn said as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I'm the luckiest woman in England!" She sighed. "I've known you so long, yet I never knew you had this talent for creating things? What else have you hidden from me?" She teased.

"Nothing, my dearest." He said as he looked down. He hoped to God she would never find out about the sins of his past, and his recent involvement of the murder of the witch, Hestia. "It's really nothing. I learned how to make things from wood when I was a small boy. I learned from a local carpenter." Guy explained.

"I had no idea. It is exquisite." Meridwyn said as she broke free from his embrace and bent down to examine his work. "Such craftsmanship." She mused.

"Yes. Are you feeling better now, my love?" Guy asked.

"Yes. I was just tired." She said.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"I am a little, for once." Meridwyn admitted as she stood up and faced him.

"Good. The cook is preparing one of your favourites for our evening meal. Roast pheasant, and another little surprise – pot pouri stew."

"You've thought of everything, my dear husband. Do you think we can make the dining experience as interesting as your cousin and his lady did the last time we ate pot pouri stew?" She grinned.

"Oh…I'm sure we can." Guy winked.

"I hope Rhiannon will be better soon. She gave us quite a scare." Meridwyn said.

"She will, my love. She is getting the best care possible." Guy reassured her.

"Do you think she will be well enough by their wedding date?" Meridwyn wondered.

"It's hard to predict. But he will wait. As long as it takes. I never thought I'd say this, but my cousin is truly and completely in love." Guy said.

"I hope she will be as happy as I am." Meridwyn smiled. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her to kiss him. She kissed him slowly and passionately.

"I'm not tired anymore, Guy." Meridwyn hinted in a whisper.

"Really?" Guy said as he smiled down at her.

"Is there enough time before supper?" She asked.

"There is always enough time for you, my love." Guy said as he kissed her again.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Late on Monday evening, September fifteenth, Rhiannon was alone in the private chamber. Lady Margaret had recently left after checking in on the Lady's progress. After she left, Rhiannon got out of bed and slowly walked toward the mirror. Another gown hung on a hook nearby. She began to wash her face using the water in the basin placed there. She slowly removed her night dress, it was difficult. When she raised her arms, there was pain. She managed to put the clean one on. It was black silk embellished with fine pale pink ribbons. It had a low scoop neckline, an empire waist, and long sheer fitted sleeves. She splashed rosewater on her décolleté and began to brush her hair. She winced as she did so, but she was determined to use her right hand. She would not weaken.

"My lady." The Sheriff spoke.

"Oh." She said, startled to hear his voice. She turned around to face him. He stood before her dressed in his breeches, boots, his flowing black silk robe, and nothing else.

"What are you doing out of bed?" The Sheriff asked as he came toward her. He resisted the urge to lick his lips as he took in the sight of her. He'd never seen the gown before. It did something to her, made her appear more sensual somehow. Her breasts looked different, or was he imagining it? They almost looked…lifted? As if they weren't already. He caught his breath and sighed.

"I'm doing what I've been doing the last three nights." Rhiannon said. The Sheriff was clearly surprised. "What – you thought I was going to remain in bed forever?" She asked.

"Would it really be so bad?" The Sheriff said with an evil grin. Then he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "Come, my angel. You really should rest." He said as he moved in closer and gently held her arm.

"I can't rest." Rhiannon said. "It's better if I wait a time."

"What do you mean, my lady? Because of the pain?" He asked.

"Yes. It makes it hard to sleep sometimes." Rhiannon admitted.

"But, the opium, my angel?" The Sheriff pointed out.

"True, the opium helps. It helps the pain very well. But when it wears off, the pain is intense. I feel it most in the dead of night. Then it's two or three hours later when you awake and administer the opium. I wish you would just tell me where you're hiding it." Rhiannon lamented.

"You know I can't do that, my love. Bad timing. You had only just had the unfortunate experience with the potion. I cannot take chances, not after that." The Sheriff said.

'Naturally." Rhiannon huffed as she turned back to face the mirror and continued to brush her hair. "Well, it's a good thing I'm strong. For I shall have to bear it." She said. Why did he insist on treating her like a child at times?

Unfazed by her words, he moved in toward her. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He bent his head toward her ear.

"All you had to do was wake me, my lady." The Sheriff said.

"I didn't want to do that." She said.

"Why?"

"Neediness is weakness." Rhiannon announced.

"No it isn't. Not in this case." The Sheriff said. He turned her around slowly to face him. "I spoke with Thomas. I told him I thought you were restless at night. He suggested a warm bath before bed to relax you."

"Really?" Rhiannon said.

"Yes. Here's what you're going to do: I'm going to have the servants fill the bath for you. You can use that liquid soap Mortianna gave you. I'll give you the opium, and you can do that before bed. I think it will help." The Sheriff said.

"Sounds nice, actually." Rhiannon smiled.

"I would have to stay nearby, though. Preferably in the bath chamber." The Sheriff said.

"Why is that?" Rhiannon asked with her eyebrow raised. "You think I have a stash of potion still hidden away in there?"

He shook his head. "You've lost a lot of blood, and there may be ill effects because of the opium. Thomas said the heat could heighten some of the opium's effects on you." The Sheriff explained.

"Oh, very well. Do it. I'd do anything you asked of me to be granted one night of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep." Rhiannon said.

"My lady…" The Sheriff said softly.

"Because the sooner I get sleep, the quicker I shall heal. And then, I'll be able to do with you what I would rather do than sleep."

He smiled at her. Damn her for being so irresistible. She reached down behind her and grabbed the bottle of liquid soap from the table below the mirror.

"Here. Pour some of this into the tub before the servants put the water in it. It makes better bubbles that way." She smiled, handing the bottle to him.

He took it from her and began the tasks.

Half an hour later, the Sheriff was sipping brandy in the den. The doors opened and Rhiannon stood in the doorway wearing her white bath shirt. Her hair was pinned up on her head. A few loose tendrils brushed against her cheeks.

"I'm ready." Rhiannon announced. "Can you give me a few moments, or do you need to make sure I won't fall in when I step into it?" She commented dryly.

He put the brandy on the table and picked up another cup containing a measure of opium. "Come here, you." The Sheriff said with a smile. She walked toward him. He held the cup out to her. "Your opium, my lady." He said.

She took it and drank the liquid. "Oh, it's vile." Rhiannon spat. He took the cup from her, placed it down and grabbed his goblet of brandy.

"Here…drink." The Sheriff commanded. She took a few sips and let the brandy warm her.

"Come." The Sheriff said as he took her hand.

"I can call for you when I'm ready. You can wait at the door." Rhiannon said, unmoving.

"No. Not this time." The Sheriff said as he led the way.

She rolled her eyes and relented.

Moments later, they were in the bath chamber. She walked toward the tub and began to step inside. He was right behind her. She motioned to the chair beside the tub.

"It's okay, my lord. Sit. I shall be fine." She said.

"Very well." The Sheriff replied.

She got into the tub and slid into it until the water was at the level of her chin. She was facing him. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and smiled.

"Mmm. That _**does**_ feel good. The pain is better already." Rhiannon smiled, savouring the soothing heat that served to relax her.

"Good." He said.

She opened her eyes. His eyes were fixed upon hers.

"Well – did you bring anything to read?" Rhiannon asked, feeling a little unnerved about being watched.

"No, my lady. I'm reading you." The Sheriff replied smiling.

"Yes. I see that." Rhiannon said. "Is it really necessary for you to remain here? Surely you'll find this boring."

"Yes, it is necessary, and no, it is not boring." The Sheriff replied.

She smiled. For he did appear genuinely concerned for her. She removed the pins from her hair. She quietly took a breath and held it, then leaned back down and submerged her head completely under the water. The Sheriff was somewhat startled and sat forward observing her. She was still looking at him from beneath the surface of the water. She came out of the water and sat up facing him. She was inches from him and reached up to grab the lapel of his robe. She pulled him down toward her.

"You're so good to me." Rhiannon said.

"My lady…" He smiled. Then she kissed him, slowly, passionately. She touched her tongue to his and tasted his desire. He broke free from her, breathless.

"Control yourself, my angel. For you are not ready." The Sheriff breathed.

"You're sure about that?" Rhiannon whispered. She held onto the edge of the tub with her right hand and used it to raise herself up, not thinking. "Oh!" She cried as she sat back down and winced.

"My point exactly." The Sheriff said.

"Curses!" Rhiannon huffed.

He leaned down and stroked her wet hair and dampened cheeks. "Patience, my lady. We shall be together soon." He whispered.

"I'm dying for your touch." Rhiannon murmured.

"And you shall have it, but not before you're ready." The Sheriff smiled.

"I'm so glad you're here. Every time I've needed you most, you were there for me." Rhiannon smiled as she gazed at him. Her eyes were even more green since she came up out of the water. The Sheriff caught his breath. She was a vision to him.

"Oh, my love…I will always be there for you." The Sheriff whispered easily.

"I feel incomplete when we're apart." Rhiannon said, surprising him.

He waited a moment before he responded. "No woman has ever loved me as genuinely and completely as you. When you're not there to give it to me, I – feel like less of man." The Sheriff said thoughtfully.

Rhiannon sighed. "What is it about you? The way you phrase things. I respond not just with my ears, but my body as well?" She admitted.

"Maybe because for the first time, I'm speaking from my heart." He replied.

"I know you are. I can tell." Rhiannon said.

"Really?"

"Yes. I can tell when you mean what you say." Rhiannon said.

"I've never lied about any of my sentiments toward you, my love. I hope you know that." The Sheriff said with his eyebrow raised.

"I know." Rhiannon whispered. Why did he have to do that? Look at her with desire in his warm, amber eyes, and raise his eyebrow like that? She felt a chill travel the length of her spine. She leaned back into the water and rested against the tub.

"Mmm…this is perfect. All I need is wine, chocolate, and music. But I have the main ingredients: water and you."

The Sheriff chuckled. "Hmm…maybe next time, beautiful." He said with a wink.

"I hope it's soon." Rhiannon whispered faintly, more to herself, as she stood up and slowly climbed out of the tub. He held her gently by the arm to steady her.

He handed her a large fluffy towel. She removed the bath shirt, then cast it over the edge of the tub. He caught his breath. She took the towel from him and wrapped it snug around her body.

"You were right, my prince. I do feel better." Rhiannon said as she spun around a little too quickly to face him. She began to falter as her head felt very light. His response was swift. He caught her in his arms and held her to him.

"Rhiannon. Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes. Just a little dizzy for some reason. It's probably nothing." She said as she massaged her forehead with her fingertips and closed her eyes. He started to lift her to carry her back to the bed.

"No. It's alright, my lord. Let me walk."

"But you nearly fainted, Rhiannon?" The Sheriff began to argue.

"You cannot baby me all of the time. I shall never get strong if I don't even try. And I'm motivated to get strong – for our wedding." Rhiannon said.

"You can't do too much too soon." The Sheriff pointed out.

"It's been a week since it happened. I've had enough time. Just walk with me." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff shook his head. There was no use arguing with her. He walked beside her with his arm around her. They made it only three feet beyond the door and into the private chamber when she had to give in.

"Oh, I'm so dizzy…" Rhiannon whispered as she began to sway.

The Sheriff caught her and scooped her into his arms. The bed was only a few more feet away. He gently laid her on the bed, then sat down beside her facing her. The edges of the towel came undone and fell away. Her perfect dampened breasts were exposed. He swallowed. The familiar rush of heat spread through him, coursing through his veins, and then settled where his need for her began. He closed his eyes and sighed. It had been so long. He couldn't remember. It was driving him mad trying to remember the last time he made love to his lady. He desired her more than anything, had wanted her for days, but he knew he needed to be patient. He almost lost her again. He would wait for her, as long as it takes.

He opened his eyes and gazed down at her. She opened hers and met his gaze immediately. She was so beautiful lying there. Her skin dampened. Her wet sable tresses clung to her skin. Her eyes were the most vivid shade of green he'd ever seen. Her full pink lips were still moist from the bath. He licked his lips surreptitiously. She took a breath and sat up slowly, only wincing once. As she did so the towel completely fell to the bed. She was naked before him. She put her hands upon his face and caressed his skin and his soft beard.

"Thank you, my love. I do feel so much better." Rhiannon smiled. Then she kissed him, slowly, sensually. He devoured her lips with his and tasted her tongue with his. They stayed like that a few moments, then she broke the kiss.

"I will be well for our wedding. I must be." Rhiannon whispered.

"You will, my love. And if you're not, it will be alright. We'll just change the date." The Sheriff smiled as he stroked her hair.

Rhiannon smiled. Her eyelashes began to flutter as her lids grew heavy. She leaned forward and softly kissed his cheek, then leaned back against the pillows.

"I don't want to wait…" She murmured. Soon she was asleep.

The Sheriff smiled as he looked down upon her. He stood up and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed. Then he gently covered her naked body with it.

"We shall be together soon." He whispered as he leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead.

When she awoke in the dark of night she was lying beside her lover. She could feel him beside her. She tried to alter her position by turning to face him but there was pain. A lot of pain. She moaned in response to it, without thinking. The Sheriff stirred. He heard Rhiannon moaning beside him. He opened his eyes and turned to his left to face her. She was trying to move but he could tell by her facial expression as the lone candle nearby cast its' glow upon her, she was in pain.

"My lady." The Sheriff whispered.

"Mmm hmm…" She murmured. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she held her right side with her left hand.

"Don't move, my angel. Just stay there." He said as he got out of bed. He went into the den. Moments later he returned with a cup. He went to the bed and sat upon it beside her. He put his left hand under her shoulder and raised her up slowly. She cried out at first but it settled once she was sitting up.

"It's bad." Rhiannon said when she was finally able to meet his gaze.

"I know. Here… drink." The Sheriff said as he held the cup of opium to her lips. She drank all of it. He put the cup on the table beside the bed, then leaned back against the pillows still sitting and held her to him.

"George…" Rhiannon whispered.

"Yes, my love?" He said.

"Will it ever go away?" She asked.

"Of course it will, my angel." The Sheriff reassured. Though in truth, he really didn't know. He never knew anyone to have survived a knife wound like that.

"It doesn't feel like it." Rhiannon said.

He stroked her hair and caressed her shoulders. Then he brought the blanket back up over her, for she was still exposed. "It takes time, Rhiannon." He said. He could feel her warm breath on his smooth chest. It soothed him. Because by rights, she really shouldn't be here. He shuddered slightly and sighed.

"Our wedding is a little over a week away." Rhiannon said. She started to tremble. Tears formed in her eyes. She was frustrated. Tired of feeling weakened. She couldn't imagine how she would feel by then.

"My lady, it doesn't matter. We shall be wed no matter what. Whether it's on the twenty sixth, or a week later, or a month later…you shall be my wife." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon looked up at him. "I don't wish to wait, my love." Rhiannon said. A tear spilled from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. She turned away, angry at herself. He saw it notwithstanding, even in the dark. He reached out and wiped the tear from her face with his hand.

"Oh, my angel. Do not cry. For it will be alright." He attempted to reassure.

"It's not fair. It won't be alright. Look at me!" Rhiannon pleaded.

"Rhiannon. It's alright." The Sheriff said.

"No it isn't." Rhiannon said. She put her cheek against his smooth chest and began to weep. She couldn't begin to control it. The pain was wearing her down. Being in a weakened state was getting to her as well.

"Hush, my love. It's not the end of the world." The Sheriff said as he held her close to him, and leaned down taking in the lavender scent of her silken hair.

"I wish to be your wife right now." Rhiannon whispered.

"My love…" The Sheriff began. She looked up at him. "You _**are**_ my wife. You love me completely and above all others, just as I do you. It's only a formal ceremony with papers. But the way I see it, in our hearts, we are already man and wife. I shall love no other the way I love you." The Sheriff smiled as he fixed his warm amber eyes upon hers.

Rhiannon smiled. She was so moved by his words she couldn't speak just then.

"Don't you see? You already have me, my lady. I am already your husband. I would do anything for you. I would die for you." The Sheriff whispered.

"No. No, my love. Take it back!" Rhiannon said.

"What?" The Sheriff asked, bewildered.

"Don't ever tell me you'd die for me. You must never! You must never leave me." Rhiannon pleaded as another tear suddenly appeared in the corner of her eye. She blinked it away.

"My lady, you are not yourself." The Sheriff said. "It's okay, my love. I am here with you, always." He spoke gently. Was it the pain or the opium or both that was causing her to be so emotional?

"Don't ever say that again. I cannot bear it. Everyone I've ever loved has died. I cannot bear to lose you too." Rhiannon said as she held onto him fast.

"Alright." The Sheriff said as he softly stroked her hair. They stayed like that a few moments before he spoke again. "Is it getting better?" The Sheriff asked, in regards to the pain.

"Yes." Rhiannon murmured. She pressed her breasts against his chest and rested her cheek against him.

"Good. Rest now, my angel. Do not worry yourself about the wedding. Take it one day at a time. That's all you can do for now. Just give it time." The Sheriff said soothingly.

"It's frustrating." Rhiannon said.

"I know, but it will be alright." The Sheriff said. "Sleep." He said as he closed his eyes.

"I'm awake now." Rhiannon said.

He opened his eyes. "That's what I thought." The Sheriff said with a sigh.

She looked up at him. The candle burning on the table nearby cast a glow upon him. His amber eyes burned like torches. She took a breath. Now was as good a time as any for answers.

"You never told me about Lady Marian." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff sighed. "There wasn't much to say." He said.

"I remember now. She said something very odd that day - before she aimed her dagger into my side. She said that you tried to marry her to steal the throne from the King." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff looked away. How dare the cursed wretch poison his lady with her insults!

"What was she talking about?" Rhiannon pried.

"It's true." The Sheriff said resolutely.

"But – I don't understand?" Rhiannon said. "All of it? It is true?"

"I was a very different man than the one I am now. It's true I tried to marry her. But the reasons were all wrong. I never loved her. When I met her, I thought she was a fair maiden, but once I got to know her it was all lost. But Locksley was a nuisance then, he practically drove me to the brink of madness. I thought if I could gain control of the throne, everything would sort itself out. I was wrong." The Sheriff explained.

"And the only way was to marry her?" Rhiannon asked.

"The King was absent. She was next in line." He said.

"Oh."

"I told you I was self absorbed then. It was all about greed, power, and control then. I had no other purpose. I had no idea how empty those purposes were until I met you. I had changed before we met. But it all became clear to me when I fell for you." The Sheriff said.

"I couldn't relate to anything she told me about you. It was as if she was speaking of another man entirely." Rhiannon mused.

"Did she say anything else?" The Sheriff asked.

"The most she told me was right before you came into the chamber, when she managed to sneak in here. I never gave her the chance before. But the times we spoke before then, she wasn't coming after me with a dagger in her hand." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed." The Sheriff seethed.

"And there was one other thing." Rhiannon said.

"What was that?" He asked.

"She said something rather disturbing. She said that you tried to steal her virtue." Rhiannon said as she looked at him with her eyebrow raised curiously.

He stiffened. He could almost feel the blood drain from his face. He could never admit to it. He could admit to the rest but no amount of explaining would smooth this one over. He could never make her understand, because looking back, he had trouble understanding it himself.

"No." The Sheriff said. "We felt nothing for each other. How could I do that?" He asked her weakly.

"I thought so. She did appear mad when she said it." Rhiannon sighed. She put her head back down against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. She smiled.

The Sheriff sighed, and frowned. He hated having to lie about that to her but she would never understand. He had to let it go. It was over, and Lady Marian was dead.

"There is only one woman I wish to be with." The Sheriff attempted to divert the topic of discussion. "And if you can't tell by now whom that woman is, you're blind."

Rhiannon smiled. "But I'm not your first." She said.

He shook his head. This conversation could only lead in one direction.

"No. It's true. But heed my words: you're the only woman I've ever touched with true meaning behind it. Now… let's forget the past and just think about us." The Sheriff said.

"It's okay. You're older. I know you had a life before I came into it." Rhiannon said.

"You would have to remind me." He said with a chuckle.

"It doesn't matter. I was just curious." Rhiannon said.

"And if I hadn't met you when I did, you'd be with another." He pointed out.

"I can't imagine being with any other man but you." Rhiannon said.

"And that's all that matters. You and I. Us. The past is over, but our life is just beginning." The Sheriff smiled.

"I know." Rhiannon sighed. She straightened up and rested her head on his shoulder. Her lips brushed against his cheek. He felt her breath against his skin when she spoke the sweetest words to him. Words he'd been waiting to hear from her for a year.

"I do need you, George." She said.

"My lady." The Sheriff sighed. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"I never needed anyone before. I never wanted to need anyone. But I do need you." She said as she looked up at him. She sat up more and brought her face in close to his.

"I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that." The Sheriff whispered.

"Believe it." She smiled. She leaned in and kissed him, softly, slowly. He returned the kiss with as much fervor as she.

"And I want you…" She breathed.

"I know." He whispered. "I want you too. But we must be patient."

"No. I need you now." Rhiannon breathed. "It will be alright. I'm much better now." She teased.

He wanted her desperately. But he could never stomach the thoughts of hearing her moan in pain while making love to her. It would be almost as bad as killing her! And what if it reminded her of being violated by that murderous leper that held her captive? No. Not now. No matter how much she tried to seduce him, he must resist. God help me, I must resist her. He thought. You must forget that her perfect naked body is pressed against yours. You must forget that she's doing her very best to make you hard, he told himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

She didn't notice because she was kissing his neck, then she moved down to cover his chest and abdomen with her soft feather light kisses. And then, she began to unlace his breeches.

He could feel it. He began to respond. He hated himself that he would have to stop her. He wanted more. He desperately wanted more from her but he knew that she would be in pain if they pursued this. He couldn't bear it. He gently grasped her shoulders and pulled her away.

"Don't you want me?" Rhiannon pouted.

"Oh, lady….you know I do." The Sheriff sighed.

"But why? Why did you stop me?"

"Because… I love you." The Sheriff blurted out.

"What?" Rhiannon said.

"The timing isn't right, my angel. I cannot bear the thought of hurting you. Trust me on this. It's killing me to turn you down right now, but I must."

She moved in closer to him. "You will not hurt me. I want you." Rhiannon said.

"Oh, Rhiannon…" The Sheriff sighed.

"You've made up your mind." She said.

"My lady, I'm not rejecting you. I will _**not**_ hurt you. I could never do that. I'm just… postponing this." The Sheriff smiled weakly.

"Very well." Rhiannon said.

He reached out and touched her cheek. "Just a little patience, my Lady Nottingham." He smiled.

She grinned. "For you, I will be patient. But I hope you know what you're in for when the time comes. All of this yearning, just waiting to be released." She smiled knowingly.

"Oh, I know it. Believe me." The Sheriff agreed.

Monday. It was the morning of Guy's wedding. He finally remembered. That was the last time he made love to her. And on Monday night, he never thought he would again. He sighed. He hoped he wouldn't regret this. His head was telling him to go for it. The old him was asking him what was wrong with him? But his heart kept playing the sounds of her cries of pain in his ears. The cries he knew he would hear from her if they hadn't stopped. It had been a long time. He would soon show her just how much he desired her. But it couldn't be now.


	53. Chapter 53

Drake and Adam were once again posted at the castle gates near midday on Tuesday. Their comrade and now fellow Black Knight, Luke had been granted a day off. It was the first they hadn't worked with him in quite some time, and they were feeling his absence. They had begun to enjoy his company, but more importantly, they had gained respect for his abilities as Knight following his quick thinking on the eve of Sir Gisborne's wedding, when he was instrumental in helping to save the Sheriff's lady. It had been a rather tedious morning, so they had been passing the time with idle chatter. At the moment, they were rehashing the events of that night.

"I knew that maiden was bad news." Adam remarked. "It was a good thing Luke arrived on the scene or who knows what would've happened?" He added.

"Well, I knew she was a bit off but she certainly didn't seem capable of murder to me." Drake remarked as he readjusted his helm. For it was ill fitting and becoming uncomfortable.

"A _**bit **_off?" Adam snorted. "Ha! Turns out she was bleeding cracked! Our friend Luke had her pegged right."

"Alright, you made your point." Drake huffed. For he still was in disbelief that the fair maiden was capable of such treachery when she stood in front of him, making eyes at him. He really would've loved the opportunity of courting her. He sighed. Were there no unattached, fair maidens left in this cursed county?

"Ah, sorry mate. I had forgotten you were taking a liking to her. Well, listen – maybe this will cheer you. Next week, all three of us have been granted the same day off. Luke and I spoke about it and we think it would be in order for the three of us to visit the tavern in the village. What say you, mate?" Adam proposed.

"I say…that an evening of merriment is indeed in order." Drake agreed. "It's got to be better than standing here all day wearing a helm that is too tight! Curses! Who _**is**_ this useless blacksmith?" Drake exclaimed as he quickly pulled the helm off and shook out his long dark hair. "What about you? You don't seem bothered. I, for one, am getting a damned headache!"

"Mine seems fine. But if you recall, I had a problem with the hauberk until a new one was reissued." Adam reminded him.

"I hope the Sheriff finds a replacement for him. This is unacceptable!" Drake spat as he massaged his temples.

"Don't count on it being soon. I've heard he's having a time finding a replacement." Adam remarked in chagrin.

"Excuse – moi?" A woman's sing song voice interrupted them.

They turned and met with an attractive middle aged woman. She was slender, dressed in a very fine dark green gown comprised of raw silk. Her sparkling blue eyes and silver hair, which she wore in an elegant chignon, shined in the autumn sunlight.

"Good day, Madam." Drake said. "How may we assist you?"

"I am here to see Mademoiselle Rhiannon." She smiled at both of them.

Adam and Drake exchanged brief glances at one another. The last time they let someone through the portcullis wishing to see the Sheriff's lady, the outcome nearly ended in disaster. They couldn't be too careful with whom they permitted to enter now.

"Is that so?" Adam asked suspiciously.

"Oui." The woman smiled as she looked upon both of their faces.

"And whom might you be?" Drake asked.

"I am Madame Arianna Oberon. I have been commissioned by Mademoiselle Rhiannon to create her wedding gown. I am a dressmaker." She replied.

"Is that so?" Drake said with his eyebrow raised.

"Oui. If you must – you can check with Mon Seigneur Sheriff. For – il est mon ami. I've known him many years." She replied confidently.

"Mon ami?" Adam questioned.

"Droit. He is my friend." Madam Oberon explained. "I also created Lady Gisborne's wedding gown." She added.

"Oh…yes. Now I remember." Adam said. He looked to Drake. "She's legit, mate. Luke and I were working the day she brought two packages to the castle for Lady Gisborne and the Sheriff's lady. It was two days before Sir Guy's wedding to his lady." Adam said. "Turns out the packages contained gowns for both of them."

"Alright." Drake relented. He looked to Madam Oberon. "You may enter, Madam." He nodded to her.

The woman smiled. The portcullis raised. During their exchange with her they didn't notice the man who was quietly standing near the portcullis, unobtrusively waiting for an opportunity to sneak in past the gates along with her. They didn't see him or notice when he entered through the gates, pleased that he wouldn't have to explain himself to them.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sheriff was on the main floor, just outside of the Council Quarters. He was speaking to his Scribe about the matter of the inept blacksmith when the young blond haired page arrived.

"Excuse me, my lord." The page interrupted.

The Sheriff turned and looked down at him. "Yes, Yes. What do you want?" The Sheriff asked hurriedly. For he was eager to check in on his lady again.

"There is a woman here to see your lady, sir." The page announced.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "Who is she?" He asked.

"Right. It's a funny name. Air…Airy? Hmm…Ohber – oh dear." The page stammered.

The Sheriff shook his head. "Is this some kind of a trick? I don't have time for your childish games!" The Sheriff huffed.

"No sir. It is true. She says she knows you, and your lady quite well." The page said. "But she speaks with a foreign accent and I've never heard a name like that before." The young lad shrugged.

"Where is she then?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"Waiting outside of your office to speak with you, my lord." The page answered.

The Sheriff made his way along the halls wondering whom the visitor was. Ten minutes later he approached the vicinity. He saw Madam Oberon there. Two of his sentry were there with her. He walked toward her and smiled. She nodded in respect to her Sheriff.

"Lady Arianna! How nice to see you." He said as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Mon Seigneur Sheriff." Madam Oberon said. "You know – you're the only one in the village who addresses me that way, and – j'adore le changement."

The Sheriff smiled. "My page said you are here to visit with my lady?"

"Oui, Mon Seigneur Sheriff. How is Mademoiselle Rhiannon? I was shocked by the news!" Madam Oberon exclaimed.

"Slowly improving, Lady Arianna. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you. Won't you come with me? I'll take you to her." He said as he offered his arm to her.

Madam Oberon smiled and took his arm. "Oui. Il est de mon plaisir." She said.

Fifteen minutes later, they entered into the den just outside of the Sheriff's private chamber. He smiled as he recalled that before he met Rhiannon, the only person who ever came into it was Guy, or the servants when he wasn't there. Now it was becoming a meeting place. The Sheriff gestured toward the small sofa in the room.

"Take a seat, Lady Arianna, I shall see if she is awake. She's been rather weakened by the whole experience." He said.

Madam Oberon nodded and took her place.

He picked up a flask and quickly poured a small amount into the cup beside it, then took the cup with him. The Sheriff went through the doors of the chamber. He found his lady seated on the window ledge. She was gazing out of the window.

"My lady." The Sheriff said.

She turned to face him.

"Are you well enough to visit with a friend, my love?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward her.

"Are you jesting?" Rhiannon said as she slowly stood up. "I would welcome it! Is Lady Gisborne back already?" She asked.

"No. It is not Lady Gisborne." He smiled.

"Then who is here?" She asked.

"You'll see." The Sheriff smiled. "But first, it is time for your measure of opium." He handed the cup to her. "Drink this." He said. She took the cup and drank the vile tasting medicine.

"Where is my visitor?" Rhiannon inquired.

"Come." He said as he offered her his arm. She took it and held his arm with both hands to steady her as he led her into the den.

Madam Oberon stood when the doors opened.

"Oh, Madam Oberon!" Lady Rhiannon smiled as she greeted her guest.

Madam Oberon walked toward her. "Mademoiselle Rhiannon! Comment vas – tu, mon cher?" She asked in concern.

"Pardon, Madam?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui. Forgive me, mon cher. Sometimes I forget to check myself. How are you?" She smiled.

"Well, I'm alive. I'm grateful for that. I do hope I'll be feeling stronger soon." Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff assisted Lady Rhiannon to the small sofa after the ladies exchanged greetings. He then offered Madam Oberon a libation of brandy before he departed to allow them to visit in private. When he opened the door to leave the den, the page was standing there with his hand poised to knock on the door. The Sheriff bumped into him since he was looking ahead rather than down.

"What now, you little runt? What are you – my shadow all of a sudden?" The Sheriff huffed.

"You had better come to the Council Quarters, my lord. You have yet another visitor." The page announced.

"Who is it?" The Sheriff asked impatiently.

"It's a man this time, sir. I've never seen him. I dare say he's not from the village."

"Whom? Did you get a name?" The Sheriff asked.

"It's another funny one, sir. He was mumbling, but it sounded like… Bacon?" The page shrugged.

"What?" The Sheriff asked incredulous. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You really ought to speak to my physician about that hearing problem of yours!" The Sheriff remarked facetiously before he hurriedly made his way there.

When he walked through the doors of the Council Quarters he frowned. He recognized the man straightway. It was the troublesome and homely looking brother to the late Ladies Hestia and Hecate. The short, stout man with the balding, reddish blond hair, stood in the room, flanked by two of his sentry.

"Oh. It's you again." The Sheriff remarked.

"This is Master Hamon." One of the guards spoke up, nodding to the man on his left.

"Well, what can I do for you – Hamon?" The Sheriff asked casually, enunciating the man's name in a snide tone of voice.

"If you recall, my lord, I came to see you just over a month ago regarding my sister's home. It was curiously burned down." The older man said.

"Oh, yes. Indeed. I do remember it now." The Sheriff remarked as he strode over to the table and poured himself a goblet of water from the pitcher, which was placed on a tray there.

"I never did find out if my sister was inside when it burned. I haven't heard from her either." The man said.

"Right." The Sheriff said absently as he sipped from the goblet, then turned around to face him.

"You asked me then to leave my address with your Scribe, which I did do. Yet still I haven't heard what you found out." Hamon pointed out.

"Yes." The Sheriff said.

The short, stout man walked toward him boldly. "So, what do you know? Because I am still in the dark." He challenged.

"All we found was a lot of ash." The Sheriff lied. "And a few of her trinkets." He added with a smirk.

"No evidence she was inside there?" Hamon asked.

"Well, if she was, she is no more." The Sheriff said noncommittally.

"You do not know." Hamon sighed shaking his head.

"Well, she wasn't there to greet us when we went to check, no." The Sheriff grinned. His two senty stifled their guffaws.

"No word from her. No word from you." Hamon said. "It is not like my sister to just disappear. We have always remained in contact."

"How positively touching." The Sheriff said sarcastically.

"You didn't bother to look, did you?" Hamon challenged.

The Sheriff shook his head. "You try my patience!" He spat. "Accidents _**do**_ happen. Or have you forgotten?"

"A home just doesn't burn to the ground by itself. Someone caused it." The man replied accusingly.

"Indeed!" The Sheriff said through his clenched jaw. He advanced toward him and grabbed him by the collar. "And perhaps – your _**sister**_ caused the home to burn!"

"No. No, she couldn't have!" Hamon said shaking his head.

"You didn't know." The Sheriff taunted. His eyes narrowed as he burned them into the unfortunate looking man's eyes.

"Know what?" Hamon asked, curiously.

"Your dear…darling sister…was a witch!" The Sheriff hissed, his eyebrow raised as he glared at the man.

"No. Impossible!" Hamon said, incredulous.

The Sheriff let go of him, and pushed him aside. He slowly walked away. He went toward a desk near the window and opened a drawer. Inside was the chain that Guy had found in her home and brought to the Sheriff's attention the same day that Lady Rhiannon fell ill in July. He picked it up and smiled. He walked slowly toward the insufferable man. When he was only inches away from him, he held up his hand, and suddenly, the large shiny silver pentagram fell dangling upon the chain as the Sheriff waved it in front of him.

"We did find this, among other curious items amongst the ruins of your dear hearts sister's home." The Sheriff snarled.

"No." Hamon said softly, shaking his head. "Not Hestia."

"She died exactly the way she was meant to if she was indeed inside there." The Sheriff said evenly. "And if she didn't – I warn you that if you are found to be harbouring her and aiding her in any way, that you could burn along with her! For now we have proof. Your sister was indeed a witch. And if she isn't dead, then she _**will**_ be dead. I already spoke to Bishop of Hereford about the matter when we found this pentagram medallion, not to mention the other items. Hmm… what were they again?" The Sheriff taunted as he stroked his chin and looked up thoughtfully. "Oh, yes – jars and bottles of potions, the remains of a book of shadows, and a curious double edged dagger!"

"How do I know you didn't plant them there, before you burned down my sister's home?" Hamon challenged.

The Sheriff swiftly grabbed him roughly by his collar again. "You insolent fool!" The Sheriff barked. "I'd hold your tongue if I were you. For you've picked the wrong Sheriff to play games with. I can easily arrange for the removal of your lying tongue!"

Hamon swallowed dryly.

"And if I find out you've been spreading your lies as you did that day when I first had the displeasure of looking upon you, then believe me….it _**shall**_ be done!" The Sheriff hissed.

Hamon looked away. The Sheriff grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him.

"Do I make myself clear?" The Sheriff demanded.

"Yes, my lord." Hamon replied weakly.

"Now go! Get out of my sight. And consider yourself warned. Next time there won't be a discussion. Because I'll be happy to remove that worthless appendage of yours…personally!" The Sheriff sneered.

The man only looked at him briefly, then began to make his way out of the room.

"Oh, one more thing." The Sheriff called to him.

Master Hamon turned around to face him.

"Don't think I won't find you just because you don't live in Nottingham." The Sheriff said. "For if you keep this up with your lies about me causing her home to burn – I know where you live. My Scribe has your address – Portsmouth isn't it?" The Sheriff remarked pointedly with his eyebrow raised. For he remembered the Scribe telling him. His reason for asking the man to leave an address was for insurance against a situation such as this.

"Yes." Hamon replied weakly.

"This was your warning. You only get _**one.**_" The Sheriff seethed.

The man nodded and went on his way. After he left, the Sheriff turned to one of the guards.

"Have my page summon Bishop of Hereford for me." He ordered.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm so pleased you came to visit me." Lady Rhiannon said to Madam Oberon.

"I was shocked, mon cher, and worried." Madam Oberon said.

"Yes. I suppose I'm lucky to be alive." Rhiannon mused. She shuddered.

"Oui." Madam Oberon agreed.

"How is my wedding gown coming along?" Rhiannon asked.

"Tres bien. Votre robe est magnifique!" Madam Oberon replied in french without thinking.

Lady Rhiannon looked at her curiously.

"Oui. Your gown shall be beautiful, mon cher." Madam Oberon said as she sipped her brandy.

Rhiannon smiled. "I thank you, Madam Oberon. For it's one less thing for me to worry about. What you did with Lady Meridwyn's gown, why, it was perfect! I'd never seen such a beautiful gown." Rhiannon smiled. Would that her gown be such a vision. A sight her lover would never forget.

"Merci, mon cher. And you – well, vous devez etre une belle mariee!"

"Pardon, Madam Oberon?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"Oh, oui. Forgive me, Mademoiselle. You shall be a beautiful bride." Madam Oberon smiled.

"I hope so." Rhiannon said quietly.

"Mon cher, do no worry. Everything will come together."

"It's difficult to imagine…how I shall feel by then." Lady Rhiannon said.

"There is still time, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. But for now, do not worry about your gown. I promised you a beautiful gown, and I am pleased with it thus far." Madam Oberon reassured.

"Forgive me, Madam Oberon. I don't mean to be negative. It's just that – well, there is pain and I still haven't gained my strength back. Sometimes it frustrates me – I am so angry at her!" Rhiannon snapped. She arose from the sofa and walked toward the table in the room. She picked up a pitcher of water and poured some into a goblet. She felt pain in her right side and held it with her left hand. She could bear it however – it wasn't as intense as it had been in the days previous.

"Mademoiselle Marian, you mean?" Madam Oberon asked.

"Yes." Rhiannon replied as she sipped some of the water.

"And you have every right to be, mon cher. But, perhaps if you concentrated on your wedding it would help your recovery. T'would be better than focusing on your anger. For despite her actions, you were spared."

"You are very wise, Madam Oberon. And good of you to remind me of what is important." Rhiannon said.

"You already knew it, mon cher. You would have thought of it on your own eventually." Madam Oberon smiled.

It pleased Lady Rhiannon that the kind woman took an interest in her. She was finding herself to be growing very fond of the dressmaker. For she genuinely seemed concerned for her welfare. In the far reaching corners of Rhiannon's mind, she wondered if this is what it would feel like to have a mother? For she didn't know. The idea of it was so foreign to her that she couldn't help but wonder. She was not granted an earthly mother for longer than a brief interval after her own birth. She was never to be held by her, or afforded the opportunity to even nurse life from her bosom just once. Her friend Meridwyn had oft times spoke of her mother. Rhiannon would listen to her stories wistfully, secretly envious of her friend. She wondered if Guy and George were ever secretly envious as well? And then she wondered – is this the cause of my hesitation to become a mother myself? For who would teach her? Meridwyn would remind her that the bond would be instinctive. But it was easy for Lady Gisborne, for she had a mother to learn from.

"Yes. I suppose you're right. It is not easy to think clearly when the pain has shifted my focus. But I shall now attempt to shift my focus from the pain." Rhiannon said resolutely.

Madam Oberon smiled at her, once again lifting the silver goblet to her lips to taste the brandy. She was poised and as always – elegant. Rhiannon observed her. Arianna Oberon had a quiet grace about her. And a winning simplicity. She was always beautifully clothed, her gowns created by her own hand. She had a natural instinct for superb taste. From her manner of dress to the way she carried herself. Even the timbre of her voice – soft and melodic. She was always calm. She was trustworthy, and astute. And as Rhiannon watched her, she suddenly had an idea come to her. She would need to speak to her betrothed about it before she made the request of Madam Oberon. In the meantime, she could extend her gratitude in another small way.

"Madam Oberon, you have been kind and gracious to me from the moment we met. I know the opportunity was snatched from you to attend Lady Gisborne's wedding. For my Lord Sheriff figured out how Lady Marian was granted entrance to the castle that day. Her invitation was meant for you." Rhiannon began.

"Merci, mon cher. It is kind of you to say, but you forget – I've known your betrothed for many years, but we became better acquainted in the last two. It would not serve me well to treat Mon Seigneur Sheriff's Mademoiselle with anything but the kindest respect." Madam Oberon replied modestly.

"Ah, but your words and deeds were not postured or performed perfunctorily. They were genuine. Now – if I am well enough for the marriage to take place on the day it has been planned for, it is my deepest wish to have you there to celebrate it with me. I think my lord would be pleased as well. Will you consider it, Madam?" Rhiannon asked.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. Je serais heureux." Madam Oberon nodded.

"Madam Oberon?" Rhiannon said curiously with her eyes narrowed.

"Forgive me, mon cher. I would be pleased." Madam Oberon smiled as she squeezed Rhiannon's hand.

Rhiannon smiled. "Tres bien!" She found herself saying. For she was slowly picking up on the beautiful language.

She had no idea her lover had been standing there discreetly in the doorway. He entered the room quietly about ten minutes prior. He was so fascinated by their rapport, he hated to interrupt. But at the same time, even though he knew he was a quiet intruder, he couldn't bring himself to leave. His lady was truly engaged in her discussion with the seamstress. The most animated he'd seen her in awhile. He smiled. Then he cleared his throat.

"My ladies." He spoke softly.

Rhiannon turned her head, and Madam Oberon stood and made obeisance.

The Sheriff motioned for Madam Oberon to sit.

"My lord, I hope it pleases you, I have just invited Madam Oberon to our wedding." Rhiannon said.

He walked toward her and bent down to kiss her forehead.

"Of course it pleases me, my angel." The Sheriff said.

Madam Oberon smiled at their exchange. One glance and she knew it, for it was quite apparent – the Sheriff was deeply in love. She had never seen him like this in all the time she knew him. It pleased her.

"I should be going." Madam Oberon said.

"No. Stay a little longer, sil vous plait!" Rhiannon said. She managed to impress both her guest and her lover with her understanding of French.

"You're a quick study, I can see that, mon cher, but we must work on your accent!" Madam Oberon smiled with a knowing wink.

The Sheriff chuckled. "Indeed she is, Lady Arianna." He smiled.

"I find your language fascinating, Madam Oberon. I hope to learn more from you. For if I shall be wife to the Sheriff of Nottingham, it will serve me well, and perhaps him too, if I could become fluent in another language besides my mother tongue." Rhiannon said.

"I shall be happy to teach you, mon cher." Madam Oberon said.

"I do not mean to interrupt your visit, my lady." The Sheriff said to Rhiannon. "I merely came to see how you are faring, if you need anything?" The Sheriff explained.

"I feel better than I have in awhile, my lord." Rhiannon said. She knew he was really asking her, did she require her medicine to manage pain. "But, my lord – I wonder if I could speak to you for just a moment." Rhiannon said.

"Of course." The Sheriff agreed.

Rhiannon stood and turned to Madam Oberon. "Please stay. For I wish to speak with you further. I shall only be a moment – je vous le promets." She added, remembering the meaning of the phrase.

"If it is your wish, Mademoiselle, I shall remain waiting for you."

"Good." Lady Rhiannon said. She looked to the Sheriff and motioned for him to follow her to the private chamber. He offered his arm to her and she took it willingly.

Once inside the private chamber, he quietly closed the door.

"What is it, my lady? Are you unwell?" The Sheriff asked in concern.

"No, my love. I feel better than I have in days. The visit with Madam Oberon has been a godsend. And she is the matter I wish to speak to you about." Rhiannon replied.

The Sheriff's curiousity was suddenly aroused. "What is it?" He asked.

"Did you notice her gown?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff was suddenly perplexed. Was she confused? "Uh…well, I think she looks grand as usual, but I did not pay attention to the details of it, I'm afraid. But if you had been wearing it – " He was cut off.

"It is exquisite. You know that she makes all of her own gowns? You saw Lady Gisborne's wedding gown. It was very finely crafted, and created in just a short span of time!" Rhiannon exclaimed excitedly.

"Indeed. But what does this have to do with – " Once again, he couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, for I know not of the proprieties entailed to being your wife. But I wonder – is it appropriate for the wife of a Sheriff to employ a wardrobe mistress?" Rhiannon asked.

The Sheriff smiled. He stroked her cheek lightly with his palm. "I'm hard pressed to deny you any of your desires, my angel. If that is your wish, you have my consent. I do not know if other Sheriff's wives have done this. Frankly, I do not care. I trust Lady Arianna. And if you wish for her to be keeper of your wardrobe, and if she agrees, then I'm happy to employ her for you." The Sheriff smiled.

Rhiannon threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. "Thank you, my lord. You have made me happy." She smiled.

"You had best speak to her then. For you've kept her waiting." The Sheriff reminded her.

He took her back out into the den. He offered both of them a top up of the tincture of rapture. Lady Rhiannon seated herself beside her friend. Madam Oberon took a sip of the soothing brandy.

"Madam Oberon, I have a request of you." Lady Rhiannon began.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Rhiannon. Concerning your gown, you mean? I have chosen the exact fabric you specified in our earliest discussion of it. Your requests have been met." Madam Oberon stated.

"No. It is not just one gown I need you for. I have something more grand in mind than that." Lady Rhiannon hinted.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, Mademoiselle?" Madam Oberon asked.

"In ten days time, I shall become the Sheriff's wife. I need to be presentable at all times, for all occasions. And you have proven to be an expert in your field. I wonder if you would be interested in serving me as my wardrobe mistress?" Lady Rhiannon proposed.

"Oh, mon cher. I am flattered you hold such confidence in me." Madam Oberon said.

"Will you consider it?" Lady Rhiannon asked.

"I warn you, Lady Arianna, my lady is not easily dissuaded. When she makes her mind up, she can be very persistent." The Sheriff added with a knowing grin.

Madam Oberon looked at both of them, overwhelmed by the offer. She took a few moments to digest it, because she was taken by surprise. Finally, she spoke. She looked to Lady Rhiannon and reached out to take both of her hands in hers.

"If you would deem me worthy, Mademoiselle, I shall gratefully accept." Madam Oberon said.

"I thank you, Madam Oberon." Lady Rhiannon smiled. "You shall work exclusively for me, and one other if she wishes to employ you as well." She added.

Madam Oberon and the Sheriff looked at her curiously.

"If she will have you – which I am certain she will, I'd like you to make yourself available to Lady Gisborne as well. For she is the Lieutenant's wife, and a dear friend. Indeed, she is as much a sister to me as if we shared the same blood." Lady Rhiannon said.

"If it is her wish, I shall honour it." Madam Oberon said.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, the Sheriff received Bishop of Hereford in the Council Quarters.

"You wished to speak with me, my lord Sheriff?" Bishop Hereford asked.

"Yes." The Sheriff said. He had already thought earlier on what he would say to him. The Sheriff stood and slowly walked toward him.

"A little over a month ago, my cousin and I had to carry out an unpleasant task. The sister of a former acquaintance of mine was found to be engaged in treacherous acts. We had to take care of the matter quietly, and discreetly." The Sheriff said as he raised his left eyebrow and shot a knowing glance at the Bishop.

"Yes, my lord?" The Bishop swallowed. Had the Sheriff and his Lieutenant resorted to their old ways?

The Sheriff sensed his discomfiture. "It had to be done, Bishop. I say to you now that she is the first we….disposed of – in three years time." A beat. "It was necessary." The Sheriff said adamantly.

"Indeed." Bishop Hereford remarked absently.

The Sheriff began to pace and clasped his hands together. "In the course of our investigation, we found out she was a witch." The Sheriff said, stopping to look upon the Bishop.

"You have proof?" The Bishop asked. Even though he knew the point was moot – for she was dead – he asked anyway.

The Sheriff walked back toward him and reached into his pocket, he extracted the shiny silver pentagram from within. He had pocketed it after his meeting with Hestia's brother.

"Here is your proof!" The Sheriff said as he dangled it in front of the Bishop's face.

"Yes." The Bishop said quietly as he looked at it, then back to the Sheriff.

"We also found out that her sister, my former acquaintance – was also a witch. Alas, she died at the hands of the murderer who abducted and killed several maidens in Nottingham and two other counties. Her judgement was delivered by another means." The Sheriff said.

"My lord, forgive me, if both of them are dead, what does this matter concern me now?" The Bishop asked rather bewildered.

"They have a brother. He came to see me today. He is proving to be as much a nuisance as a buzzing fly! Two members of his family were proven to be a witch. The odds are in his favour then, that he is one too." The Sheriff hinted with his eyebrow raised, as he slipped the pentagram back into his pocket.

"I see." Bishop Hereford said as he finally understood. "Who is he?"

"His name is Hamon, he lives in Portsmouth." The Sheriff replied in disgust. Even the mention of his name caused revulsion in him.

"I do hope you're wrong with your prediction, my lord. I loathe these heresy trials!" The Bishop sighed.

"Indeed." The Sheriff said. "An odious task, but alas, I must find out. My top two investigators are away at the moment. I'm not aware as yet when Duke Farnsworth will return from his mission in the north, but Gisborne shall be returning soon from his get away with Lady Gisborne. I will ask him to investigate it. But in the meantime, I thought it best to bade you warning of the matter. For if the man is indeed found to be a witch – I shall turn him over to you." The Sheriff said.

"A wise decision, my son." The Bishop said.

"That's what I thought you'd say." The Sheriff smiled knowingly. "For nothing I can deliver to him in judgement will be nearly as painful as burning at the stake." He grinned. Oh yes, Hamon. You picked the wrong Sheriff to play games with...indeed! He thought to himself.


	54. Chapter 54

The town council meeting was underway on Thursday just after midday. The Sheriff had rescheduled it from the usual day of Monday because of Rhiannon's recovery. The truth was – it was a good excuse to get out of it. Most of the points of business had by now been discussed. The Sheriff sat at the head of the large oak table, sipping water from a silver goblet in an attempt to stay alert. He found himself yawning a few moments ago. How he loathed these meetings.

"Your lordship, there is one last thing I wish to call to your attention before we adjourn." His Knight who regularly attended the meetings as a spokesman for the Sheriff's militia spoke up.

The Sheriff sighed and shook his head. "Let me guess. Problems with the armour again? Or is he now making a mess of the weapons?" He huffed.

"It's the armour again, sir." The Knight said.

"What is it this time?" The Sheriff asked.

"This time it's the couters, my lord. Some of the men received replacements, as I pointed out weeks ago they needed new armour. Some of the couters are too large to fit. Some of them are too small. It presents a problem with elbow movement should they need to take aim at anything." The Knight said.

"This must end!" The Sheriff growled. He stood and looked around the table to those gathered in the Council Quarters this day. "You were asked to find me a replacement. One of you speak now – and you better have some good news for me!"

"Alas, my lord, he's the only one in the county." The town crier reported with chagrin.

"Curses! Well, it's a damn good thing we're not at war here, isn't it? I shall have to pay a visit to him. Are there any other matters anyone wants to share with me?" He asked curtly.

Nobody spoke.

"This cursed meeting is adjourned." The Sheriff said. He looked to his Scribe. "Except you, Scribe. I need you to come with me."

"Yes, my lord." The Scribe obeyed.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The armoury was located in the sublevel of the north wing of the castle. Several men worked there under the supervision of the blacksmith. There were swordsmiths employed there as well by the Sheriff. Torches blazed inside, and along with the fires used to coax metal into workable blades and armour, it was filled with smoke, haze, and the result was a very warm atmosphere. The Sheriff and his Scribe entered into it twenty minutes after the town council meeting adjourned. The Sheriff nodded to his sentry who was posted near the threshold.

"Where is my blacksmith?" The Sheriff asked him hurriedly.

"That's him, over there, my lord." The guard pointed straight ahead to a middle aged man with graying hair. He was of average height and lean. The man was hammering a piece of metal plate armour on an anvil. The Sheriff nodded to his Scribe and together they approached the blacksmith.

"Remind me, Scribe…" the Sheriff said as they slowly made their way to him. "What is this man's name again?"

"It is Stephanus, my lord." The Scribe replied.

A minute later, the Sheriff and the Scribe were standing three feet away from Stephanus the blacksmith, who was so busy labouring he was unaware he was now in the company of his master. The Sheriff cleared his throat.

Stephanus looked up, but he never made direct eye contact. He seemed just to be looking in the Sheriff's general direction.

"My lord?" The blacksmith said. It was a question, not a greeting. As if he couldn't really tell who stood directly in front of him.

"Your one and only master." The Sheriff replied with his left eyebrow raised curiously.

Stephanus stood up and nodded in respect to the Sheriff.

"Are you aware of the errors in the crafting of the various pieces of armour issued to my men?" The Sheriff asked. His instinct was telling him not to proceed with the approach he originally intended for this man. For some reason, the usual manner of shouting and brute force he normally would use did not seem appropriate. He couldn't yet put his finger on why?

"There are problems with the armour, sir?" Stephanus asked, still not maintaining direct eye contact. "What problems are there? I shall be happy to fix them for you."

"Are you trying to play games with me?" The Sheriff asked curtly.

"No, my lord." Stephanus said.

"Well, let me bring you up to speed, Stephanus. Five weeks ago it was reported to me that some of the hauberks were too long. One week after that, my Knight informed me that the poleyns were too large. Next, just over a fortnight ago, I was told the helms were too small. And now – it seems there's a problem with the couters! What will be next, Stephanus? Will the blades of my swords be dull and weakened?" The Sheriff demanded pointedly.

Stephanus rubbed his eyes and squinted. "Forgive me, my lord. It was not the intent to fail you. I didn't realize the pieces were inadequate." He said apologetically.

"What?" The Sheriff shook his head. "How could you not know? Surely you jest!" The Sheriff barked.

"My lord." The Scribe interrupted.

"What is it, you little ferret? Can't you see I'm busy?" A beat. "Why the hell aren't you taking notes?" The Sheriff demanded.

"I need to have a word with you, my lord. It's crucial. May we step away for a moment?" The Scribe asked.

"What?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous.

"Please, my lord." The Scribe implored him.

The Sheriff shook his head. "This had better be good!" He growled. He grabbed his Scribe roughly by his arm, and practically dragged him back toward the door of the armoury.

"What is so important that you would be so brazen as to interrupt me?" The Sheriff demanded angrily.

"My lord, I think your blacksmith may be going blind." The Scribe announced.

"I'm supposed to be surprised?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously.

"I mean….he is _**really**_ going blind. Did you see his eyes?" The Scribe asked.

The Sheriff shook his head, his jaw agape. It was difficult to see through the smoke and haze that surrounded them when he was speaking to the blacksmith.

"They are clouded over, sire. Also, he never once looked directly into your eyes when he spoke to you. He only looked in your direction." The Scribe pointed out.

"How can you be certain?" The Sheriff asked impatiently. "What would _**you**_ know of it?"

"Because I have a brother who is blind. When my brother went blind ten years ago, his eyes looked exactly like that. He was unable to make eye contact, just like your blacksmith. Your blacksmith, I am certain, is losing his sight." The Scribe said.

"Splendid." The Sheriff muttered. He looked to his sentry. "Have the page summon my physician at once!" He ordered. He nodded to the Scribe to follow him back in.

Stephanus stood waiting. The Sheriff observed now that the blacksmith didn't seem to notice him.

"Stephanus." The Sheriff spoke.

It was then that Stephanus appeared to be aware of the presence of his master.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me about yourself which may be a factor in your performance?" The Sheriff asked.

There was a pause and then…

"You know." Stephanus said with a heavy sigh.

"How long has this been going on?" The Sheriff asked.

"I started noticing changes in my vision in July, my lord." Stephanus admitted. He looked downcast, ashamed at being discovered.

"You should have told me." The Sheriff said.

"What good is a blind blacksmith, my lord? I've been serving you for four years. I was hesitant to say because I wanted to retain my position in your armoury." Stephanus explained.

"I've sent for my physician. He may have recommendations for you. Is there anyone you can think of who could assist you?"

"There is a man in here who has been helping me. I have him make adjustments to the pieces that require a keen eye." Stephanus admitted.

"Does he know your trade?" The Sheriff asked.

"If I guide him. He knows the basics but he still requires training, my lord." Stephanus replied.

"Right. Well, continue with what you're doing. And let's both hope my physician can do something about it." The Sheriff said.

Stephanus nodded. The Sheriff and his Scribe took their leave.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A short time later he walked through the door and entered into his private chambers. He paused in the den and went to the table where the decanter was. He pulled the stopper from it and poured a libation of the tincture of rapture. He needed something to calm him. He hoped his physician could do something for his blacksmith. Now the matter was more urgent than ever. He was going to need to replace his blacksmith if Thomas couldn't come up with a solution. But who would do it? There was nobody else in the county? He would need to send his men on a mission to find one. But his militia was depleted at the moment because there were seven who were already engaged in a more important mission.

No word from the Duke in a month. Shouldn't the proclamations have yielded results by now? The infant was now four months old. He shook his head. There were reasons why he left the search for the infant in the capable hands of his lead investigator, but now he wondered if he made the right decision? He shook his head, took another sip of the brandy, then he went into the private chamber.

Lady Rhiannon was on the bed. She was wearing the black silk nightdress again. He sighed at the sight of her. She was semi reclined against several pillows propped behind her, reading a book.

"My lady." The Sheriff said.

Rhiannon looked up and placed the large book on her lap. It was bound in worn leather, and covered her lap when she placed it there.

"How are you faring, my lady?" The Sheriff asked as he walked toward her.

"I am well, my lord. I have some pain but – "

He turned around and started back toward the door. He was headed for the flask of opium he kept hidden in the den.

"Stop." Rhiannon called to him.

The Sheriff turned back to face her. "If you have pain, then you should have it. You haven't taken a measure of it since dawn." The Sheriff pointed out.

"I know. But it's not that intense." Lady Rhiannon said.

The Sheriff smiled. He walked over to the bed.

"What is it you're reading?" He asked.

"Yes. You know how restless I get. I asked Lady Margaret to take a look in your library for me. She brought me this." She said as she held it up to show the Sheriff. The title of the large manuscript bound in leather read: "Lancelot – a Tale written by Chretien de Troyes".

"Isn't that a French transcript?" The Sheriff asked.

"Originally, yes. But it was translated by scholars and preserved by monks so that the English can read it as well." Rhiannon explained.

"Interesting." The Sheriff said.

"It is tedious being locked up in here all day. You are kept busy, and my dear companion is still away. I have to amuse myself somehow." Lady Rhiannon pointed out.

"Not the usual source of entertainment I expect to see a maiden amuse herself with in her leisure." The Sheriff remarked.

"Right. You expected to see me working on some kind of sewing or needlework endeavor? As if!" A beat. "As I told you the first day we met, my sweet prince: you confuse me with other maidens. We are not all cut from the same cloth." Rhiannon reminded him.

"Oh…indeed I know. You are definitely unique, alright." The Sheriff smirked.

"Lady Margaret tells me that knowledge is power. For once, I think she is right." Rhiannon said.

"What are you learning from that then?" The Sheriff asked nodding to the book.

"Nothing. It is only literature. I should have read his manuscript before this one though – Erec and Enide. That was the first of his books where the character of Lancelot was introduced, but this looked more appealing to me when Lady Margaret brought both of them to me, asking me to choose." She replied.

"Well, that's one thing you have in common with other maidens – a fascination with Lancelot, Guinevere, and King Arthur's court." The Sheriff pointed out. He cleared his throat. "Well, my cousin and Lady Gisborne should be returning soon. I have a task for my cousin when he returns, so I'm sure that she'll be glad to keep you company." The Sheriff said.

"Oh?" Lady Rhiannon remarked curiously.

"I'm sending him to Portsmouth to investigate a matter for me. It may take him a day or two to complete the mission." The Sheriff said thoughtfully.

"What is going on in Portsmouth?" Rhiannon pried.

"You know I cannot tell you." The Sheriff replied.

"Why not?"

"Rhiannon, you mustn't concern yourself with it. I'm still in the very early stages of this investigation." The Sheriff said, curious as to why he constantly needed to explain this to her.

Rhiannon sighed. She wondered if he would ever be willing to share anything of importance of his duties with her? As if he could read her mind, he went to her and kissed the top of her head.

"I shall be able to tell you more when I know more myself, my angel. It's too early yet to disclose the matter." The Sheriff said.

Just then, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. The Sheriff went through the den to the door and opened it. The young page was standing there.

"Yes?" The Sheriff said.

"You have two visitors waiting to speak with you in the Council Quarters, my lord." The page announced.

The Sheriff sighed. "Who is here to see me?" He asked.

"Brothers Gerardus and Elyas from Shrewsbury Abbey in Shropshire, sir." The page replied.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north. "They are here to see me? Whatever for?"

"I'm not sure, my lord. But they brought some sacks with them. They won't tell us what's inside." The page answered.

He went back to Rhiannon and explained he had some business to attend to but would return. She returned her attention to the book. After he was gone she opened it to the back. There was the folded parchment. The Sheriff's proclamation. She had it folded so she could only see the drawing of the man's face. She touched her fingers over the outlines of it. Robert….you're supposed to be dead. Why? Could there really be another man out there who closely resembled him? Because every time she stole a glance at this document, she felt a chill travel the length of her spine. The resemblance was eerie. She sighed. There must be some mistake? Robert would never do this to her. He would never abandon her, not his youngest sibling. He wouldn't. He was a lot of things but he was not a liar, or a schemer. No. He would never do this to her. She sighed. Indeed….it must be another in this sketch. There was no way that was her brother!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A short time later the Sheriff strode through the doors of the Council Quarters. Inside there were two monks waiting to see him, accompanied by two of the Sheriff's sentry. Both of the men wore long floor length robes in a boring shade of brown.

"You wished to see me?" The Sheriff asked of them.

The tall elder man spoke first. He had silver hair which was balding, blue eyes, a long roman nose, and was a little on the stout side.

"Greetings, my lord Sheriff. I am Brother Gerardus. This is Brother Elyas." He nodded to the younger man beside him. "We were sent to you by our Abbot, Hugh de Lacy, to deliver a gift for you." He said.

"A gift?"

The younger of the monks spoke next. He looked to be a middle aged man. He was tall and lean, and he had brown hair and eyes the same colour.

"Yes, my lord. It comes directly from the cellarium of the monastery." Brother Elyas said.

"What is it?" The Sheriff asked.

Brother Gerardus reached into the burlap sack he was carrying. He extracted a large flask.

"To commemorate two things: the murder of the evil heathen responsible in the deaths of several missing maidens in this kingdom – " He was cut off.

"And in celebration of your upcoming marriage…" Brother Elyas added.

"Yes. We give to you a special issue brandy made in our monastery." Brother Gerardus said.

"How very kind." The Sheriff said. He walked closer to them and took the flask from Brother Gerardus.

Brother Elyas held out his sack to the Sheriff. "There are more of them inside of this sack, my lord."

The Sheriff smiled and placed his gifts upon the table. Then he opened the flask and poured a small amount into a goblet, which was already placed on the table. He took a sip. It was slightly sweeter and even more smooth than the tincture of rapture which was a vintage from ninety four. He savoured it then smiled in satisfaction. It was very pleasing indeed!

"Can I offer you two gentlemen a sip?" The Sheriff asked without thinking. Then he added: "Abbot de Lacy need never know." He winked.

"No, my lord. With regret…we must decline. It would go against our vow of poverty." Brother Gerardus spoke for them both.

"Poverty? How does a sip of brandy constitute wealth?" The Sheriff asked, bewildered.

"Indulgence would come under the vow of poverty. Not to mention the vow of obedience." Brother Elyas explained.

"You truly are a humble lot, aren't you?" The Sheriff noted.

"You might see it that way, my lord. But we chose this life." Brother Gerardus said.

"Indeed. We serve God and our people." Brother Elyas added.

"From what I can tell, all you do all day is pray, and labour. Not much of a life from what I can gather, if you'll forgive me for saying so." The Sheriff remarked as he took another sip of the brandy.

"Yes. We do labour all the day on anything that needs to be done in and around the monastery. Or we may be feeding the hungry, aiding the sick, distributing medicines, or educating young lads to become priests. We do many things that the general populace are for the most part – unaware of." Brother Elyas explained.

"Some of our brethren also copy transcripts of authors to preserve them, and keep records of important events. We hope they shall survive for many generations to come as a record for history." Brother Gerardus nodded.

The Sheriff nodded. He remembered what Rhiannon said earlier about the book she was reading, originally recorded in French, but it had been preserved by monks, after the scholars translated it, for the English speaking public.

"That does sound like a great deal of work. Sounds more tiresome than what I do in a day!" The Sheriff said with a sigh.

"To labour is to pray. That is our motto, my lord Sheriff." Brother Elyas smiled.

The Sheriff shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes, though he tried to be subtle about it.

"More issues of this brandy shall be arriving to you, my lord. The Abbot asked us to bring the first of them directly to you. Alas, he didn't wish to trust this with a messenger, and he wanted to see that you were satisfied with it." Brother Gerardus said.

"Yes. It is very pleasing indeed." The Sheriff said, as he took another sip.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we must get back. We promised to arrive on time for the eighth sacred office in two days hence. It happens at dusk." Brother Gerardus said.

"Sacred office?" The Sheriff asked. "Is that a time for prayer?"

"Indeed." Brother Elyas spoke up. "And we must depart, for we don't wish to end up in the misericord, having to explain our absence." He shuddered.

"Indeed, you're right, Brother Elyas." Brother Gerardus agreed.

The Sheriff thanked them again, and the two monks departed on their way.

Moments later, after the Sheriff put the flasks back into the sack, save for one, which he would take to his chambers, he opened the door and bumped into Guy.

"Cousin, you're back so soon?" The Sheriff greeted him.

"We've been gone a week. I felt it best to return to you." Guy said.

"How does your wife fare?" The Sheriff inquired.

"She is well, my lord. The respite proved restful for her. And yours? How is Lady Rhiannon?"

"She is much better than when you last saw her. She is still recovering but much improved." The Sheriff said.

"What's that you have there?" Guy asked, pointing to the flask and the large burlap sack.

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot." The Sheriff said. He turned to his sentry and handed the sack to him. "Give this to one of my servants and ask them to place these in the cellar. And be careful with it, the contents are fragile." The Sheriff directed.

"Yes, my lord." The guard replied then took his leave.

"Come, Guy." The Sheriff said. "Come and join me for a welcoming libation of my newest tincture of rapture! I was just visited by two monks from Shrewsbury Abbey of the Benedictine Order who brought me a gift. A new issued brandy in honour of the demise of our leperous friend, and to commemorate my wedding." The Sheriff said as he put his hand on Guy's shoulder to lead the way.

Guy nodded and they went on their way.

"Where is Lady Gisborne?" The Sheriff asked.

"Where else? She went looking for your lady." Guy replied.

"My lady will be pleased. I can tell she's almost restored to her former self. She's complaining of boredom and has noticed Lady Meridwyn's absence."

"Yes. They do seem quite close friends." Guy commented.

"How fortunate for us." The Sheriff said.

"Indeed." Guy agreed. "Is there any news?" Guy asked.

"Huh! Funny you should ask. Where to begin?" The Sheriff remarked facetiously.

Guy looked at him curiously while they continued making their way down the long corridors where torches burned brightly ensconced along the walls lighting their path.

"You remember we've had an ongoing problem with some of the pieces of armour?" The Sheriff reminded him.

"Yes. Did you find a replacement?"

"No. Not as yet. But now I know why the problems were occurring, and why it remains ongoing." The Sheriff sighed.

"What is it?" Guy asked.

"Today I discovered that my blacksmith is in the process of going blind. And I don't mean that in the _**figurative **_ sense of the term either." The Sheriff said with his eyebrow raised.

Guy shook his head. "You cannot be serious?"

"Indeed I am. I met with him in the armoury earlier. Even standing directly in front of him, he didn't know I was there until I spoke to him." The Sheriff said.

"This is indeed a predicament, cousin." Guy said shaking his head.

"Indeed. I've sent for Thomas to examine him. He might have some suggestions to help with the symptoms, though I doubt he has a cure. So, there's one priority I must deal with." The Sheriff huffed.

"And…there's more than that, I'm guessing." Guy surmised accurately.

"Indeed." The Sheriff sneered. He stopped in his tracks, they were on the stairwell leading to the second floor. "Do you recall…Hestia's brother? He came to see us the same day I hired Luke in early August." The Sheriff prompted him.

"Oh, yes. He was rather unfortunate looking if my memory serves me well, wasn't he?" Guy remarked.

"Indeed. Homely is what I would call him. He came to see me yesterday. His name is Hamon." A beat. "Homely Hamon. Don't you just love the alliteration there, cousin?" The Sheriff chortled, amused by his coining of the phrase.

Guy grinned. "Indeed. That's even better than what I once came up with for the Sherwood bandit! Remember that? I suggested 'Reeking Robin', and I think the other one was 'Locksley the Lethal'. Though, I kind of preferred 'Reeking Robin', myself. The Knights told me he always did seem to smell curiously like…dung!" Guy chuckled.

"Indeed. Anyway, he is even more troublesome now than he was then." The Sheriff seethed.

"He's still spreading word around, accusing you of burning down her manor?" Guy asked.

"It's more than that." The Sheriff said. He turned to Guy fixing his amber eyes into Guys. "Remember what I've always told you about doubt?" He said, his eyes narrowed piercingly.

"Indeed. We eliminate all doubt." Guy said.

The Sheriff nodded with an evil grin. "Well, I let him go – this time. Because I have some plans in store for our 'Homely Hamon'." He paused a moment before he continued. "Both of his sisters were found to be witches." The Sheriff began.

"Hecate was one too?" Guy asked, surprised.

"Indeed. Mortianna tells me she used to consult the crone frequently regarding spells and potions. Seems she was rather fascinated by the craft." The Sheriff said.

"So, where does this Hamon come in?"

"Obviously it's in their blood, cousin. The chances are great that this Hamon character is more than likely practicing acts of heresy as well. So, I would like to send you on a mission for me to Portsmouth." The Sheriff explained.

"You want me to run him through for you?" Guy asked with an evil grin. "For I'll be happy to do so, because _**him**_ – I do not like."

"No. I want you to check things out for me over there. Find out more about him. Keep surveillance on him, the same way you did with his loathsome sister. Find out if he's engaged in similar practices to his evil sister, Hestia. The Scribe has his address in Portsmouth." The Sheriff directed.

"Alright."

"I've already spoken to Bishop of Hereford about the matter." The Sheriff announced.

"My, you're determined to be rid of him." Guy remarked.

"I told you he's more troublesome than ever. As I told the Bishop: he's as much a nuisance as a buzzing fly! Buzz, buzz, buzz!" The Sheriff spat.

"What if find nothing?" Guy pointed out.

The corners of the Sheriff's mustache slowly curled as a malevolent, satisfying grin spread across his face. "Then…I have other plans in store for him. I'll explain the details to you later, but first, let us share a goblet of brandy." The Sheriff said.

They continued on their way. They were already on the second floor, and walking the corridor leading to the Sheriff's private chambers.

"Any news from the Duke?" Guy broached the subject as delicately as he could

"Not yet." The Sheriff sighed.

"The manor in Nettlestone is in readiness for the arrival of your child. I've assigned the servants to prepare a room for him or her. There's a cradle there waiting for the infant now." Guy stated. He hoped this news would ease the Sheriff's mind.

"Good. I appreciate that, cousin. Now all I need is the child!"

"I'm sure your men are making progress." Guy reassured. "For surely the proclamations containing their likenesses have caused someone to spot them?"

"You would think. But why no news?" The Sheriff pointed out.

"Give it a few days. I'm sure you should hear something from the Duke soon." Guy said.

"I hope you're right." The Sheriff said as he drew in a sigh. He just needed to know his child was safe. That's all. Just some sort of a sign. He hoped that word would present itself soon. Now that Rhiannon was on the mend he found himself less worried about her. Now his focus was shifted to concern for the child he had yet to look upon.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"It's so good to see you're much stronger." Lady Meridwyn said to her friend.

"Am I?" Rhiannon remarked sarcastically.

"Of course! You are up and moving about, and you have much more colour to your cheeks, I can tell you that. You were starting to look worse than I do in the mornings." Lady Meridwyn sighed.

"How do you fare, friend?" Rhiannon asked.

"Very well. Each day there is gradual improvement with the vertigo at least. Though some new changes took place. God only knows what I am to expect next!" Meridwyn rolled her eyes.

"So…I gather you're not liking the experience thus far?" Rhiannon guessed accurately.

"You jesting? Next time I hear a lady say: "I just loved the experience of carrying my children.", I'll be hard pressed not to strangle her! It is tedious and unpleasant. I feel like some carpenter nailed a shelf upon my bosom. I feel stout, and I might add…like total rubbish in the mornings." Lady Meridwyn lamented. She realized she had said too much by the surprised look on Rhiannon's face.

She cleared her throat. "But Lady Margaret assures me this will pass in about a month's time. She also tells me that I'm one of few who experience such unpleasantness."

"Oh." Rhiannon said. "My, that is good to know."

"Have you heard how the progress of your gown is coming along?" Meridwyn asked abruptly changing the topic.

"Yes, I have. I cannot wait to see it." Rhiannon smiled.

"I'm sure you're going to be looking ravishing, my dear." Meridwyn said.

"Well, as a matter of fact, Meridwyn, I shall be looking grand all of the time. Not just on that day." Rhiannon hinted.

Meridwyn regarded her suspiciously.

"Good news, friend. Madam Oberon is to be my wardrobe mistress. She has agreed!"

"Splendid!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"And she shall be making herself available to you as well. We are the ladies to the two most important men about town. We must look our best." Rhiannon winked.

"Oh, Rhiannon!" Meridwyn smiled. "Won't this be fun? Hey…maybe she can make us match our attire in some way! You know…so we won't look hideous together at formal occasions!"

"A grand idea, Meridwyn! We wouldn't want to embarrass our men by clashing! Or ourselves…" Rhiannon laughed.

"We shall be the most beautiful Sheriff's and Lieutenant's wives in all of England! God knows that lady is talented." Meridwyn said.

"Indeed!" Rhiannon agreed.

"What are you two ladies exclaiming over?" The Sheriff's voice pierced through the air silencing their jocular voices.

They turned around, startled by the abrupt interruption. The Sheriff stood there holding a flask in his right hand. Guy was beside him. Both men bedecked head to toe in shiny black leather. Both looked upon their respective ladies with a mixture of love and lust in their eyes.

"I just told Meridwyn about Madam Oberon agreeing to serve me." She stopped and patted Meridwyn's hand, then nodded to her. She turned back to the Sheriff. "I mean – us." Rhiannon said. She tried not to blush. The way he looked at her then. She was drawn like steel to a magnet. Why did he have to look at her that way? Now?

"Yes. A most fortunate find." The Sheriff said. She looked so radiant she was positively beaming. He enjoyed seeing his lady so animated and lively.

"What do you have in your hand?" Rhiannon asked.

"You shall taste it momentarily, my angel." The Sheriff smiled.

He walked to the table and poured a measure from the flask into four goblets then he passed them around.

"I really shouldn't." Lady Meridwyn said holding her hand up. "Nobody has ever proven that spirits taken by ladies are harmful to their unborn children. But I once knew a lad in my village who was surely strange and unusual. And I don't mean in a good way! His mother overindulged in spirits frequently, even when she was with child!" Lady Meridwyn shook her head. "I always knew she had something to do with his peculiar manner."

"Uh…yes." The Sheriff said, surprised at the length of her explanation.

"I'm sure a sip or two will do no harm to the child, my dearest. We have much to celebrate. Let us make merry." Guy said to his bride.

"Alright. But just this once." Meridwyn agreed.

The Sheriff handed the last goblet to Rhiannon. "You haven't taken your medicine today, my lady. Share a toast with us." The Sheriff smiled.

She cast him her sultry glance that drove him mad with desire as she took it from him, caressing his fingers as she did so. What was it he said to her, the Friday before her unfortunate accident? Oh, yes…. _" Flirt with me all you want, my angel. It will not go unnoticed I can promise you that."_ Did he notice? She wondered….

She was doing it. She was flirting with him. He sighed. He hoped he could contain his desire for her. How to get rid of Guy and Lady Gisborne now? He narrowed his eyes, burning them into her cool aqua depths. He cleared his throat and nodded to her goblet.

"This was brought to me today by two monks from Shrewsbury Abbey in Shropshire. The Abbot Hugh de Lacy and the brethren there bestowed to us a gift, my lady. It is a new issue of brandy in celebration of our wedding." The Sheriff said.

"Our first wedding gift." Rhiannon smiled.

"Hmm. I never thought of it that way?" He mused. For it was true. He was not going to tell her the other reason they sent the new supply of the tincture of rapture to him. That – she didn't need to know.

Rhiannon looked at him curiously. She sighed. "Perhaps if this is indeed a wedding gift, we should wait until our wedding feast?"

"To hell with proprieties!" The Sheriff said. "Do not fear, my angel. We have enough to last us until Candelmas!" The Sheriff laughed.

"Really?"

"Alright. Perhaps I exaggerated. Maybe not until February, but it should indeed last us until Martinmas." The Sheriff assured her.

"Your birthday, cousin." Guy pointed out.

"Thanks for reminding me." The Sheriff said sarcastically.

"So…your birthday is November eleventh?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. I told you that?" The Sheriff answered.

"No. You never did tell me. Good. I haven't missed it." Rhiannon smiled.

It was the first time the thought of his birthday warmed him. He could only imagine what lie in store for him as a surprise from her. He hoped it involved something in the private chamber. He licked his lips.

Half an hour later, Rhiannon took Meridwyn into the private chamber to show her the soaps that Mortianna had made for her.

Guy turned to his cousin. "When do you wish me to depart?"

"Give it two days. You only just arrived." The Sheriff replied.

"Are you going to tell me the plan if my efforts turn up nothing?" Guy asked.

"Oh…I have a plan, alright. You're going to plant the items we found in Hestia's manor into his home in Portsmouth." The Sheriff said with his left eyebrow raised.

"They burned with the manor!" Guy pointed out.

"No they didn't. Do you think me a fool? When you had your back turned after I killed her with the dagger, I grabbed the curious items and hid them in my cloak. Oh, yes, and I still have the silver pentagram medallion you gave to me." The Sheriff grinned.

"Why did you do that?" Guy asked. He decided to reword it when he saw the reaction emerging on his cousin's face. "How did you think of it?"

"Gut instinct, Guy. Remember I told you: you should get one? Once again, my instinct was right on target." The Sheriff said.

"Indeed." Guy agreed. His cousin's cunning never ceased to amaze him.

Just then, Ladies Rhiannon and Meridwyn came back into the den. Meridwyn held her hand to her forehead and seemed to be faltering. Rhiannon had her arm about her to steady her as she walked.

"Meridwyn! What is it, my love?" Guy exclaimed as he walked toward her.

She looked up. Her face was as white as snow.

"The brandy was a bad idea, Guy." Meridwyn said.

"Come, my love. Let's get you to bed." Guy said.

The Sheriff and his lady looked at each other and grinned. They were going to finally be alone. After his cousin and Lady Meridwyn left, he quickly put down the goblet and went to her.

"My lady." He whispered. He pulled her to him and kissed her. He devoured her, tasting her desire for him with his tongue.

"Tell me you're up to this…" He breathed.

"I am."

"Do not lie to me…not now!" He whispered gruffly.

"It is no lie. I am ready for you." She said.

He was all over her. Then he picked her up and carried her into the private chamber. He gently placed her on the bed. She grabbed his coat tails as he was turning to go back and close the door.

"Forget the door. Get back here." Rhiannon demanded.

The Sheriff turned around and collapsed on the bed beside her. He began to kiss her soft lips. His soft beard brushed against her velvety soft cheeks. As he did so he slowly and deftly unlaced the ribbons that held the two edges of her bodice closed.

She was desperate to run her hands along his flesh. As he slowly began to undress her, she tore off his coat, unlaced his tunic, then began to loosen the strings of his codpiece. She cast it aside then unlaced his breeches.

He felt the fabric graze his skin, his hard manhood as she slowly loosened it. Then her hand was finding it's way there to touch him.

He stopped her to remove her gown. He slowly ran his hands along her curves, over her smooth abdomen, and up toward her breasts. He cupped one and brought his lips to it.

"My lady…" The Sheriff whispered.

She felt his lips and tongue upon her nipple, his beard tickle her skin. His breath was upon her and the heat of his touch sent ripples of anticipation through her.

"Take me. I'm yours…" She breathed.

And then - a knock on the door. Curses!

"Ignore it!" He commanded her. "I don't give a damn if the King is there. Whomever it is can take their leave!" The Sheriff growled.

He continued to seduce her and brought his face up to hers.

"My beautiful lady. I've desired you for days." He said. He began to slowly kiss her.

She felt a warmth settle into her depths. She forgot her pain. His touch induced a response that was like the effects of a drug on her. He was her drug. She desired him, and now she had come to need him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" The Sheriff asked her, breathless. "I will not hurt you. Even though it will surely kill me now to stop, I will not – "

She put her soft fingertips upon his lips. "Shh…touch me, my prince. I crave your touch more than any drug." She whispered.

"Oh, my lady…" He breathed and then he was upon her. He was just about to take her….

_Bang. Bang. _

Damn the gods! He stopped and shook his head. He looked down upon her. "Forgive me, my angel. I shall get rid of them. Don't move." He ordered.

She smiled.

He arose from the bed and fastened his clothes. Then he strode angrily though the chambers. Curses! Were his dead enemies haunting him? Why did it feel like there was some higher conspiracy going on to keep him from being intimate with his lady?

He opened the door. He let out an audible sigh when he saw his page standing there.

"Why, you little runt!" The Sheriff snapped. He swiftly reached across and grabbed the lad by his shirt and literally picked him up off the floor. "Whatever it is you're here to tell me – it is _**not**_ important enough!" The Sheriff barked. He put him back down on the floor and folded his arms across his chest, his jaw was clenched in anger at being interrupted.

"Your medicus has arrived, as per your instruction." The page announced.

"Thomas…" The Sheriff said shaking his head.

"What shall I tell him then?" The page asked.

"Tell him to give me a few moments. I will take him to my blacksmith." The Sheriff sighed.

Damn! Maybe he should have asked to summon the physician to come tomorrow? He went back to the bed.

"My lady…"

"You must leave me now. I understand." Rhiannon said. "Save it for later, my love. After my evening bath." A beat. "Your lady will be waiting for you then." She promised.

The Sheriff smiled. Though he was still annoyed at being interrupted during such a crucial moment. He should have spoken to his sentry. He would be sure to tell his sentry when he retired that nobody – on pain of death, must disturb him tonight! For he craved her too. And damn it…he shall have her!


	55. Chapter 55

Approximately twenty minutes later the Sheriff entered into the Council Quarters.

"My lord Sheriff. You wished to see me? Is Lady Rhiannon – " Thomas was interrupted.

"No. It is not my lady. It is my blacksmith. I fear he may be losing his sight. He has yet to be examined. I need you to see for yourself, perhaps you may have a solution?" The Sheriff said.

"Very well. Where is he?" Thomas asked.

"In my armoury. Come." The Sheriff said as he led the way.

They got through the door and the Sheriff made contact with Guy. The Scribe was standing behind him.

"How did you know to come?" The Sheriff asked his cousin.

"The page told me perhaps I should, because you were in too bad a mood to think straight." Guy said. He was going to say 'irate' instead of the more forgiving description of 'bad mood', but thought better of it.

"Oh, indeed I was." The Sheriff muttered. "But, it doesn't matter…" He said, suddenly aware that Thomas was right beside him. He'd never get anywhere with the matter if Thomas knew how angry the Sheriff was at being interrupted. But now he was angered further._ "…too bad a mood to think straight."_ Huh! The cursed little runt! I'll teach _**him**_ some manners. He thought.

Moments later, the Sheriff, his Lieutenant, his Scribe, and his wise physician, Thomas Crumwell, entered into the armoury. The Sheriff and his Scribe led the way.

Soon they were all standing in front of Stephanus, the blacksmith. Stephanus immediately sensed he had company. The sound of their boots clicking confidently on the stone floor sounded like that of an army approaching.

Stephanus stood and made obeisance to his master.

"My lord." Stephanus said as he looked up in the direction of the Sheriff. "Has your physician come to see me now?" He asked.

The Sheriff looked upon him with a hint of concern. It was then, in that moment, he felt pity for the man. He shook his head. There was still work to be done. Alas, no time for foolish sentiments. Focus! He willed himself.

"Yes. Indeed he is here." The Sheriff said. He motioned for Thomas to come closer.

Thomas approached the blacksmith slowly. "I am Thomas Crumwell, the Sheriff's own personal physician. I am well versed in disorders of the eye. It used to be my specialty before I was hired by your master to serve him. Tell me, what is your name?" Thomas asked.

"It is Stephanus, sir." The blacksmith replied.

"Do you consent to having me examine you?"

"Indeed. I do consent." Stephanus said.

Thomas turned to the Sheriff. "I need light." He said.

The Sheriff nodded to Guy. Guy quickly grabbed a torch from the wall behind Stephanus and held it up for the physician.

"Near, but not too close to his face." Thomas directed.

Thomas took a few moments to study Stephanus' eyes. He pried them open to get a better look. Guy held the torch nearby to light the field of vision.

"Hmm. Indeed. A classic case." Thomas said, nodding affirmatively.

"What?" The Sheriff and Stephanus both asked in unison.

"He has a condition of the lens known as cataract. If left untreated, without surgical intervention…." Thomas looked to the blacksmith. "I am afraid you will be blind, Stephanus." Thomas reported gravely.

"What surgical treatment?" Stephanus asked.

"There is a procedure I am skilled at. I have performed five hundred of them in my years of practicing medicine. The procedure has a fifty percent success rate. Alas, it is not because I am not skilled in it, it is because not enough is known yet of the eye, and other possible factors that cause blindness, that I do not have a one hundred percent success rate. Alas, no physician anywhere from here to Greece has a perfect rate of success. I dare say, worldwide." Thomas explained.

"Okay?" Stephanus said, quite bewildered. "So…are you going to tell me what you're going to do to me?" He asked the physician.

"You will not like it." Thomas said.

"I need to know everything before I consent to you touching my eyes!" Stephanus said adamantly.

Thomas sighed. "Alright. But do not say I didn't warn you. There is a procedure where by using something sharp, such as a large bore needle or a knife; if I insert it through the cornea and use it to guide the lens out of its capsule, then down to the bottom of the eye, than there is a chance it will work and your vision shall be restored." Thomas explained.

Stephanus gasped, his eyes widened. The colour drained from his face.

Guy closed his eyes and sighed. Then he regurgitated in his mouth slightly.

The Scribe gasped loudly and shuddered.

The Sheriff felt sick to his stomach.

Overall, the explanation Thomas provided of the procedure and it's imperfect success rate, did nothing to inspire confidence in the Sheriff. The Sheriff was a lot of things, but he knew it to be true he was indeed a perfectionist. He expected the same level of quality from his staff. But if there were no other choice available, he was going to need to sell it to his blacksmith.

"Is there nothing else?" The Sheriff asked Thomas.

"I can issue a salve to be applied to his eyes twice daily. I could suggest compresses or drops. None of those less invasive recommendations have proven anything except a tedious experience for the patients. They are, alas, ineffective. Some physicians do subscribe to these methods, however, but that is usually because they lack the education and skill to carry out the procedure." Thomas said confidently.

The Sheriff shook his head. He prayed to Zeus he would never acquire this cataract condition.

"Do you use a knife…or a needle?" Stephanus asked the physician pointedly.

"I use the large bore needle." Thomas said.

"Now, Master Crumwell, you should know: I am not good with needles. No. I cannot agree to this!" Stephanus exclaimed.

The Sheriff shook his head. His jaw began to clench. Before he could speak out, Thomas answered the blacksmith.

"I prefer the needle. It offers more precision than a knife. I can control it better and it causes less damage than a knife. This is why I have a good success rate with it. Believe it or not, mine is the highest documented rate of success with this. Just goes to show how much advancement there is yet to come as more is learned about these conditions. Anyway, it will be to your benefit if you allow me to use this manner of performing the procedure. There is a greater risk of failure if you choose me to use a knife." Thomas informed him.

Gisborne began to feel very unwell just then. He hoped there would be less graphic explanations to come. He didn't want to deal with the humiliation of having to be excused from this cursed meeting.

"If you don't do this, you'll be no good to me. I shall have to let you go. And what good will you be if you're blind _**and**_ poor?" The Sheriff pointed out to Stephanus. "Agree to this, and you may be able to retain your position, and I shall reinstate your former wage of…" The Sheriff said, stopping to ponder it. What was it again?

"Five crowns, my lord." The Scribe pointed out.

Stephanus sighed. He looked to where he believed the physician to be standing. "Alright, but I just have one question."

"What is that?" Thomas asked.

"Is there anything you can give me that will ease the pain while you perform this? Preferably something to numb it?"

"Indeed. What – you think me a barbarian? I shall administer to you a measure of potion of dwale." Thomas said.

"What is that?" Stephanus asked.

"Dwale is a potion of anaesthetic. A drug that makes you fall asleep and numbs you to the sensation of pain. It is comprised of lettuce juice, the gall of a castrated boar, henbane, briony, opium, hemlock juice, and vinegar. The ingredients are mixed in proper ratios ahead of time. I prefer lower ratios, and then I mix it in watered down wine. It is recommended to use wine, but I prefer a weaker strength in my mixtures of dwale." Thomas said. He looked to the Sheriff.

"I shall need an assistant. I would like to request Lady Margaret to help me."

"Lady Margaret? What use will she be in this matter?" The Sheriff asked.

"In my teachings, I have taught her more about the anatomy of the eye, than I have of the liver." Thomas said with a knowing look on his face.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north.

"Let's do this." Stephanus said. "When will you do it?"

The Sheriff looked to Thomas. The tall silver haired man nodded.

"It shall be done as soon as Lady Margaret is available to assist my physician. Hopefully it shall be done by dusk." The Sheriff announced.

Stephanus sighed in resignation.

When they were outside the door of the armoury, Guy asked to speak to the Sheriff.

"Cousin, is it necessary you shall require my presence when this event occurs?" Guy asked. The Sheriff noted he looked ashen.

"Yes. In case the blacksmith behaves unpredictably. He may reach for his sword, or one nearby. And you might be needed to assist as you did with the examination." The Sheriff said.

"I don't know if I can." Guy said, shaking his head.

"Don't give me that!" The Sheriff snapped. "You were the one who cut the eyes from that pitiful servant of Lord Locksley's! It was not I that did it, contrary to popular belief – it was _**you**_! It was a good thing I was there witnessing it along with the crone, or else I might have excused you." A beat. "Don't embarrass me, Guy." The Sheriff warned.

His cousin sighed.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was near moonrise that same night. The Sheriff was in the den sipping from a goblet of the tincture of rapture which had just been brought this day. A short time ago he was dismissed by Lady Rhiannon from the bath chamber. She insisted she felt much stronger today. He reluctantly agreed. He would finish the brandy and return to check on her. He took a sip and licked his lips. He was impatient to touch her.

Then he sighed. He thought of the last order of business of the day. He wished it had happened before he dined, perhaps he wouldn't have felt so ill?…

_The unpleasant task was carried out in the blacksmith's quarters. The procedure was now underway. A short time ago, Thomas had just administered an ounce of the dwale mixed with the thinned wine to the blacksmith. Stephanus had fallen asleep. The Sheriff was glad. For, if his blacksmith had remained awake for this, he surely would've reached for a sword, and indeed become mad. The Sheriff drew in a heavy sigh and closed his eyes._

_When he opened them again his cousin was holding a torch to shine over the face of the patient. His assistance was needed, after all. For Lady Margaret was using clean rags to hold the left upper and lower eyelids open at the moment, while Thomas was carefully cutting…no! Stabbing away at the eyeball in an attempt to loosen something from it. The Sheriff thought about it. What did he call it again? Was it a lens?_

"_Hold that torch steady, Sir Gisborne!" Thomas directed urgently._

_Guy shook his head. He looked to the Sheriff. His face was a pale shade of…green? The Sheriff sighed. Guy fidgeted and the hand holding the torch moved again._

"_We need someone who can handle it to hold the light for us!" Lady Margaret commanded fearlessly._

_The Sheriff turned to the Scribe, for he didn't wish to do it. It was bad enough to have to assist with Lady Rhiannon's recent intervention, even though he knew he would not be anywhere else but by her side._

"_Scribe, take his place." The Sheriff ordered._

_The Scribe nodded._

_The Sheriff turned to Guy. "You will exchange duties with the Scribe." The Sheriff announced._

_The procedure continued another hour more. Finally it was over. Lady Margaret was observing the blacksmith to see that he would waken soon. She received strict instructions from Thomas not to leave the patient's side until the man was completely lucid._

"_When will we know?" The Sheriff asked Thomas._

"_It will be clear whether the procedure was a success or not in about a week's time…give or take a day or two." Thomas said._

"_Surely you jest? A week?" The Sheriff asked, incredulous._

"_Yes. Now he must begin recovery. It takes that long for healing. We won't know what his true visual capability is until then. Because even if it's successful, in the interim he will still be the way he was before. In fact, his vision will be worsened because of the procedure, until he heals." Thomas explained.  
_

The Sheriff sighed. Another week…if he was lucky! He cursed himself for not thinking to stall the procedure. He might have found a replacement? But what choice did he have? Even though the blacksmith was functioning in his duties better before than he surely would now, until next week when he was healed (supposedly); Thomas said if he didn't perform it, Stephanus would be blind. Curses! Every time he thought he was getting anywhere, he was constantly thwarted! And this situation today…look at that? There he was, caught between a rock and a hard place. Either decision had a high chance of a poor outcome. Was this his sign? The sign to indicate not to ever expect anything to go right?

He lifted the goblet to his lips and downed the rest of the contents of the brandy. He was angry, and he was also still on a low simmer from his brief interlude with Rhiannon earlier in the afternoon. He licked his lips. Then he went through the doors and into his private chamber. Rhiannon was lying on the bed, she was wearing her burgundy velvet dressing gown. She always looked beautiful wearing it. The colour complimented her skin tone and her eyes perfectly. This time it was not wrapped about her, it was opened, inviting his touch of her creamy skin. It appeared as if she had been waiting for him. But now, she was fast asleep. Curses! He walked closer and sat down beside her. He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"My lady…" He sighed.

He possessed a good deal of self control about most things, at least he believed he did. But he wondered how he would be able to contain it much longer, this waiting to be intimate with her. He needed her. He sighed. He would have wait a little longer.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was the following morning when it came - the sign he was seeking.

Rhiannon awakened at dawn. The Sheriff was jolted from his slumber by her touch. He figured he had only fallen asleep somewhere near the witching hour – the sky was black as pitch then, and he could tell by the way his head felt he could not have had more than two or three hours of sleep. But she began to seduce him, and soon he was wide awake.

Once again, moments before he was about to take her in a moment of wild, reckless abandon, there was a knock on the door of the den.

Rhiannon sighed. "You better answer it, my prince. It must be important because you asked your guard not to disturb us." She pointed out.

He shook his head. "Indeed. You're right." The Sheriff said resignedly. He got up and quickly dressed, muttering curses under his breath. He threw on his breeches, boots, and his voluminous black silk robe, then strode through the chambers to the door.

When he opened it, the Scribe stood there. Beside him was a young gangly lad with curly red hair and a freckled face. He held a scroll in his palm.

"This young lad has a message for you, sire." The Scribe said, nodding to the messenger.

"I was asked to place this only in the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Are you he, sir?" The lad asked.

"I am indeed." The Sheriff said.

"I was sent by Duke Farnsworth. The matter is of vital importance, my lord." The messenger said.

The Sheriff began to tremble slightly, but he was successful at concealing it.

"Give it to me." The Sheriff commanded.

The messenger gave the scroll sealed in wax to the Sheriff.

The Sheriff took it and carefully removed the seal from it. He slowly unfurled the document and began to read:

_"Monday, 8th September, 1197 Anno Domini_

_My Lord Sheriff;_

_Your proclamation was effective. I am in a small village in the county of York with your Officers Richard and Nigel. The lady wanted in the kidnapping, and your child, are with us in custody now. She is taking us to her husband, we will secure him, I assure you - we will not fail you. We will be returning to Nottingham Castle directly afterward. _

_I'm not certain how long the journey will take, but you should expect to see us by the twenty first. This letter may precede our arrival by a day or two but not longer. _

_The child appears healthy, my lord. All is well._

_Your faithful servant,_

_Duke C. Farnsworth._

_PS. I did not pay the messenger because I wanted to make certain he'd indeed get this message to you."_

The Sheriff hung his head and closed his eyes. He drew in a heavy sigh. His shoulders relaxed and his face softened in that moment. For it felt like someone had just removed a weight equal to that of a ton of gold from his burden.

"My lord?" The Scribe said.

"It is good news…for a change." The Sheriff said evasively. "This messenger needs to be paid. Take care of it." The Sheriff ordered the Scribe.

"Yes, my lord." The Scribe said. He motioned for the messenger to follow him and the Sheriff closed the door.

He leaned back against it and looked skyward. His child. His child was indeed coming home…for real. He would need to speak to his sentry posted at the main gates. Someone he could trust. He thought for a moment. Luke. He wanted to tell Rhiannon about the child in his own way. He would need to take her to Guy's manor to see the child. It was going to take a lot of convincing too - he had a funny feeling. But the child would behold its father first. He was suddenly apprehensive. He never imagined he would have a child. He was unlike most men who were fathers. He was no nobleman. He pretended to be, but he knew he was not.

He tucked the scroll into the pocket of his robe. He would burn it later. Rhiannon had to hear this news from his lips alone. He went back into the private chamber.

"Is everything in order?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, my angel. Everything is fine." The Sheriff said.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"The seven Knights I had sent on a mission in the North have completed their task. They are returning to me, that is all." The Sheriff lied. He had to, for now. She wasn't ready. And he needed the child to be present when he told her. For surely when she looked upon the face of the child they created together, there would be no mistaking it, she would know what he would tell her was truth.

She smiled. Then a moment later, she closed her eyes and grimaced slightly. She tried to hide it, but the Sheriff saw it notwithstanding.

He sighed. "There is pain isn't there?" The Sheriff guessed.

"Some…" Rhiannon whispered.

"Don't say a word. I'm giving you the opium." He said. She did not protest.

She took it a few moments later. She held her right side with her left hand and slowly reclined back against the silky pillows.

"Forgive me, my prince." Rhiannon said.

He smoothed her hair and touched her cheek. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Don't think on it, my lady. We shall have our time." He promised her.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours later his Lieutenant summoned the Sheriff to the Council Quarters.

When the Sheriff saw him, he was surprised.

"You look to be heading on a journey. Are you leaving for Portsmouth today?" The Sheriff asked him.

"Yes. I'm not sure how long this will take. I'd rather get it over with." Guy said. "You might need the key to my manor while I am gone. I wanted to give it to you before I departed on my way." Guy said. He handed it to the Sheriff.

"Indeed. You're very perceptive, cousin." The Sheriff said. "I heard from Duke Farnsworth this morning." A beat. "He is bringing my child to me now."

"Finally!" Guy exclaimed.

"Yes. I shall finally behold my child's face. I almost can't believe it." The Sheriff said. "I will need to be available to meet with my new prisoners when the Duke arrives with them to the castle. So, I would like to assign Luke and one other of the Knights to take my child to your manor. Do you agree?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes, if you must." Guy said. "I already got the address in Portsmouth from the Scribe. Do you have those items you wish me to plant there?" Guy asked him.

"Yes. Come with me to my office." The Sheriff said.

The Sheriff and Guy walked along the halls and finally made it into the office ten minutes later. The Sheriff walked to the north wall, which was to the left of the window at the back of the room. He found the block of stone that activated the release. The wall separated and slid to each side to reveal the inner chamber of his vault. He went inside and moments later returned with the items. He put the pentagram medallion in there after he met with the Bishop. He gave the medallion, the book of shadows, and the double edged dagger to his cousin.

Guy took them and went on his way. Two men from his patrols accompanied him on his mission.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later, the Sheriff summoned Master Luke to his Council Quarters. Luke arrived promptly. He stood before his master.

"You wished to speak with me, my lord?" Luke asked.

"Yes. I have an important mission I need you to carry out for me." The Sheriff said.

Luke tried to conceal his excitement at being chosen for his first mission.

"You've seen the proclamation no doubt?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Luke said.

"Duke Farnsworth, the man you took the scroll from to deliver to me in August – is returning with my men, and the couple who will be charged with kidnapping." The Sheriff began.

"Yes?" Luke asked, puzzled.

"The child who was kidnapped is also in custody. It will be brought to this castle. It is a long story, Luke, and I will not explain it to you now. Perhaps in time. The child belongs to me, and my Lady Rhiannon. But my lady is unaware of the child's existence." The Sheriff said.

Luke was clearly astonished.

"Alas, it is a very delicate matter. I need people I can trust. None of what I just told you must be divulged. But I want you to choose between two of my Knights to accompany you on this mission. For this child's safety is of utmost importance." The Sheriff warned.

"What is my task?" Luke asked.

"You are to take the child to Sir Gisborne's manor in Nettlestone. The Scribe has a map for you to direct you to the manor. Here is the key." The Sheriff said as he handed the key over to Luke. Luke took it. The Sheriff continued. "There will be people waiting there to receive the child. Most likely Lady Margaret, a few of my servants, and if Lady Margaret cannot be there at that time, a wet nurse will be waiting." The Sheriff said.

"It shall be done. When are we to expect the infant to arrive?" Luke asked.

"In the next day or two. You will be assigned to the main gates again with Drake and Adam. You are to choose one of them to accompany you." The Sheriff directed.

Luke concealed the grin he felt forming. The Sheriff _**did**_ know the names of his comrades!

"You had better meet with my Scribe soon, Luke. I want you to be prepared when the Duke arrives at the gates. The child is _**not**_ to come through the portcullis. You are to take the child directly to Sir Gisborne's manor. And you need to give this to the Duke." The Sheriff said. He reached under his belt and passed a sealed scroll to Luke. "It will explain everything to him. Otherwise he would never surrender the child to anyone but me." The Sheriff said. "Keep it on your person. Give it to no one but Duke Farnsworth." The Sheriff instructed. "You do remember him, I trust?"

"Yes." Luke nodded.

"Good. Now, go. You should find my Scribe before you return to your post." The Sheriff advised.

Luke took his leave and obeyed his master.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

By dusk everything was in place. The Sheriff had spoken to Lady Margaret, and by now she had already acquired a willing maiden to serve as wet nurse in the matter. Two servants were assigned by the Sheriff to go to the manor to assist Lady Margaret. He would speak to Duke Farnsworth about appointing two of his best men to guard the manor. Normally this would be assigned to his Lieutenant to choose, but he was now engaged in another mission.

It was nightfall. The Sheriff had given Lady Rhiannon a measure of opium. She requested it, saying she was determined this time to be with him intimately. She didn't want the pain to come back. Once again, she chose to soak in the bath.

The Sheriff was waiting nearby, reclined upon the bed. One arm was behind his head, the other was supported on a pillow as he held a goblet of the tincture of rapture in it. He was wearing his long black silk robe, and his breeches. His raven hair glistened by the light of the lone candle on the table beside him. The mood was set. The timing was right. He was finally relieved of a major burden. He smiled.

He waited a time. He realized she had been there quite awhile. He decided to check on her. He quietly opened the door and stood in the threshold gazing down hungrily upon her. Rhiannon appeared to be asleep. Her head was tilted back, leaned over the edge of the tub, but she was moaning and running her hands slowly over her breasts.

"George…" She murmured faintly.

The Sheriff sighed. He could feel it. He felt himself grow hard as a rock in that moment. He slowly drew in a breath, then he opened his eyes.

"Rhiannon." He said.

She _**had**_ been asleep. For she was startled. "Oh! There you are, my sweet prince. Come. Your lady awaits." She beckoned. She cast him that slow sideways glance, dropping her eyelids and holding them there a moment before she slowly looked up at him.

He sighed. Candles burned in the chamber. The light reflected on the water and cast a bright glow upon her skin. She appeared to be lit up from within. She motioned for him to come forward.

He walked toward her and sat on the chair beside the tub. He observed she was not wearing her bath shirt. He couldn't tell before because of all of the creamy bubbles. But now he could see. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. He could almost tell where every vein in his body was located, because a heat rush was slowly coursing through him, like a peculiar form of energy. It finally settled, demanding he take her soon.

She pulled him by the lapel of his robe, down toward her and kissed him slowly and longingly.

"Oh, my angel." The Sheriff said.

She stood up and grabbed the velvet dressing gown. She began to wrap it around her as she stepped out of the tub.

He carried her back to the bed. She nestled against the navy silk linens and the soft down pillows covered in the same pleasing fabric, and looked up, smiling at him. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Are you sure you're well enough?" The Sheriff asked.

"Yes."

"You did have discomfort this morning." The Sheriff reminded her.

"Do you wish to hear me whine?" Rhiannon suddenly asked.

"What! Of course not." He said.

"Then…just try to reject me and see what happens." Rhiannon winked. "For I am ready for you. You will know this soon enough." A beat. "Did you speak to your sentry?"

"Indeed, I did, my lady." The Sheriff said with a knowing smirk.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" Rhiannon teased.

There was no hesitation in what happened next. He was upon her in seconds. They tore off each others clothing in a frenzied moment of pent up passion.

"Rhiannon." The Sheriff whispered gruffly as he ran his hands over her body. He bent down to kiss her breast. She reached down and took him in her hand.

"Now." She demanded.

"No. Patience, my lady." The Sheriff said.

And then he slowed his pace. He touched her lightly and began to kiss every inch of her, yet his lips barely grazed her skin. She felt the tingle induced by the sensation of his beard trailing over her body.

He made his way up over every curve of her body. Then up toward her face. He burned his eyes into hers. He stayed like that a moment. It was driving her mad with desire.

"Promise me I won't hurt you or I will not proceed." The Sheriff demanded, breathless. His left eyebrow was raised demanding an answer. She knew without a doubt she was ready for him to take her then.

"My sweet prince, I promise you: you shall _**not**_ hurt me." Rhiannon smiled without blinking as she stared into his eyes.

He slowly entered her. She _**was**_ ready. He moaned. Their bodies moved in a perfectly choreographed dance of desire. Their fantasies unfurled and carried them to a utopia they could never have imagined. Each felt their bodies burning on fire for the other. Finally, in the dead of night, they collapsed breathless, in a state of pure unadulterated bliss.

And she was feeling bliss she never thought possible. Even in dreams she wouldn't have believed it could be so perfect.

But, alas, it couldn't be perfect. No real love ever was. For in less than twenty four hours, Lady Rhiannon's life would take a turn in the direction of one hundred and eighty degrees from where it was headed now. She would need to make a choice. The most important and finite decision she could ever make. And she would never be able to turn back from it.

She would need to make a choice between the two most important men in her life. One had never failed her, though he would unknowingly do so in the hours ahead. The result would cost her the life of someone she held dear. The other had failed her in the most heinous manner possible, to the point that he almost deserved his fate. But she could only choose one. The Sheriff of Nottingham? Or her brother? One was the man of her dreams, the only man she knew in her heart would ever be able to keep her happy. The only man who would suffice, whom she would always compare anyone who would follow after him, god forbid, because he would be the standard to measure by. But the other was her own flesh and blood.

Soon, three people were about to get the surprise of their lives. Though the Sheriff's surprise would come later. There would be secrets revealed, and they would unravel all around the Sheriff. There would be suspicions, and accusations, and lies would be told. Only time could reveal if the mad love affair between the Sheriff of Nottingham and his Lady Rhiannon could survive the ultimate test that lay ahead of them.


End file.
